Serendipity
by citigirl13
Summary: Elena is kidnapped by Damon. The lines of love and hate blur between the two of them. AU. WARNING: scenes of rape and violence.
1. Part I

**Hey! **

**So I've been working on this story for a LONG time. This wasn't even meant to be a Damon/Elena story – in fact it was meant to be something I was going to put in the Writers' Society anthology. But that piece could only be 1,000 words and, well, I've written approximately 30,000 words (in fact it was going to be a one-shot but it was WAY too long, even for my one-shots). I hated cutting it down, so in the end I gave up. A little while later the idea was still in my head, and I thought it would be a good D/E story. So, here we are. **

**I love this story. Honestly, I really do. BUT that being said, it is unlike my other stories. It is very dark (****seriously)**** especially this first part. I hope people like this story and don't find it horrifying. I don't think it's TOO bad, but I think the writer can't really judge how their own work will be perceived. **

**So with that in mind, I hope you give this story a read and hopefully won't be put off so you will continue reading the next two instalments. **

**Thanks in advance. Enjoy! **

**This is an AU story.**

**WARNING:**** This story is not like my usual stories. It is ****DARK**** and there are multiple ****RAPE**** scenes in this story. There is also multiple swearing and large amounts of sexual language and actions too. If you feel you cannot cope with this than I would advise you not to read this story. ****You have been warned.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of the characters**

**xXx **

**Serendipity **

**Part I**

The smoke itches down her throat, forcing her awake. The second she opens her eyes she can feel the thick air surrounding, like a hand pressing down upon her. She pushes herself upwards, but the very effort of the action drives the remaining air out of her lungs. Instantly she goes to the door, scrambling towards it. It's too hot though; the second she touches the metal handle it burns her.

She thinks fast – because in this world, you have to. She goes to the other side of the room towards the window and pushes it open. She glances down at the ground below her. _Too far, _a voice in her head hisses, but before she can be swayed she climbs out the window and begins to move down the side. The house is cold and wet from the fallen snow, and it only takes a few seconds before she loses her grip and falls to the ground.

For a moment she lies flat in the cold snow. She doesn't feel it though; she's in shock. Her brown eyes rise up to the house, the smoke behind it like a sinister halo. She can't think of moving, of running; she only thinks that the house that she grew up in, her sanctuary, is going up in flames.

She stands up on shaky feet. There aren't that many valuable things in the house – but that depends on what you say is priceless. There are videos, photographs of her mother and father and brother, videos, clothes that she and mother brought together, books that her father had read to her, toys that she and her brother had fought over... All of that is now burning in her house.

She is debating about rushing back in; she takes a step forward, even though she doesn't know what she would do. But then a voice comes from behind her: "I wouldn't go back in there if I were you."

She stops. She knows who's behind her – well, not the exact person, but the _thing _that has done this.

She knows she's as good as dead.

**xXx **

He first spots her in the street – a happy accident. She's walking, her eyes unfocused. She's clearly deep in thought, barely noticing the people around her. She doesn't notice him watching her.

He doesn't know why he's drawn to her. Maybe it's because she looks lost, out of place – like him. Only no one else notices him. He blends in after years of practice. People look at him, yes, but not in fear; in admiration for his good looks and his obvious wealth. When he shoots a smile at a girl they are more likely to faint that to walk up to him. People notice this girl but not in admiration. Perhaps some boys spare her an appreciative glance. But most know her back story, the sadly spun tale of a girl who lost her family.

He doesn't know it. Not until he follows her to her house, with the GILBERT mailbox on the side that he gets it. The Gilbert killing is widely known by vampires in this area.

Maybe that's why, when she's asleep (fitfully) he watches her through the window. If he could get in there himself he would have drained her of her blood long ago. The desire for her is killing him. Usually he can control himself; if someone is bleeding in front of him his eyes won't change; he will be able to turn away.

But Elena Gilbert... The mere smell of her perfume, the sound of her heartbeat, causes his fangs to protrude. He has never felt such an urge to drink from a human since the first few years he was a vampire, and even then it was never this strong. He can barely stop himself from grabbing her and draining her when he first sees her. There is something about this girl that makes Damon desire her more than he has any human.

He knows better than to kidnap her. Besides, she spends days on end in her house, which is enough to make him suspicious. Humans who know about vampires stay close to their home, knowing that it's the one thing that they can't find a loop-hole for.

Well, almost.

He watches from the shadows as the fire begins to spread. He has a little worry kindling inside him that she will die in the fire. He pushes it aside though. She won't die. This girl is strong, he knew it from the second he clapped eyes on her. Sure enough he watches her climb from the house. Okay, the landing was crap, but you have to give her ten out of ten for bravery and effort.

When she turns to him, her features are stiff with fear. He tilts his head, amused. Of course. She's a Gilbert; she'll know about vampires.

They stare at each other for a few moments. The crackling fire is the only noise. Even the animals in the forest nearby are silent witnesses.

Then she runs.

She begins to sprint away from him. Not back to the house though. He's not sure where she's going, but he makes sure she doesn't get far. In a flash he is in front of her. She careens to a halt, slipping and sliding but making sure that she doesn't touch him. She falls in the snow for the second time.

With deliberate slowness he bends down beside her. Her eyes are wide and her breathing has sped up, but she doesn't back away. _Brave girl. _"Do you know what I am?"

He doesn't expect her to speak, but she finds an answer. The spit lands on his cheek, thankfully not in his eyes. He closes them, partly in annoyance and partly in disbelief. He wipes the spit off his cheek and returns his gaze to the girl. She is still looking at him, this time with a little more courage.

It is gone the second he slaps her.

He uses a little bit of his supernatural strength, just to make sure it hurt. She falls flat on the ground, her face pressed against the cold snow. She doesn't move this time.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says. He moves his eyes over her body. She must see this because she shudders. But it's not her body he's looking at (though he must admit, it is very beautiful, especially when she is wearing too-small pyjamas). He's found the source of her vervain. It's coming from the necklace round her neck. Of course – who goes to bed with a necklace on? He fingers the chain before moving down to the pendant. The second his skin touches it his hand stings in pain. He yanks it back for a moment, breathing hard. But it's not like he wasn't expecting it. With her eyes still dead ahead, he swiftly grabs the necklace and pulls it off her neck. It is thrown far, so far that the girl will not be able to retrieve it.

As the pain on his hand ebbs he looks back at her. She is shivering, and he doesn't think it's due to the cold. A smirk appears on his face. He moves his hand so that he's touching her cheek. She flinches, as if the mere touch causes pain. His smirk widens.

Carefully he grabs her chin and turns her so that her eyes are looking at him. Bending closer he notes the colour of them. Dark brown, almost black. He wonders if she is really as good as she appears, or if her eyes leak the darkness inside of her. He doubts it; she'll be as sweet as pie, and hopefully taste even better.

"You belong to me," he says. He feels his eyes buzz from the compulsion.

"I belong to you," she repeats in a monotone voice.

Satisfied he takes her hand and pulls her upwards. She doesn't like him touching her, he can tell. She doesn't want to be with him. But now she has no choice. "Follow me," he informs her. He turns and starts walking back to the where the car is parked. Sure enough he hears her soft footsteps behind him. He smiles to himself. It's just too easy.

Famous last words.

At the last second she changes direction. Turning he watches as she sprints towards the forest, momentarily disappearing in the shadows of the trees. For a second he stands there, stupefied.

Of course. She must drink vervain too.

**xXx **

She can't stop. Any second wasted is a second taking her closer to her death. The branches catch her as if pulling her back to him – the _vampire _– but she fights them. Her feet, cold and sore from the snow and ice, slow her down and she curses for not grabbing some shoes before climbing out the window.

She slips, naturally, sliding back into the snow. She almost bursts into tears. He'll find her. He'll find her and feed on her until she's dead, just like her brother and her parents. She vowed she wouldn't let a vampire kill her, and yet surely he will succeed.

Lifting her head, she takes in her surroundings. The air in her throat catches when she sees a fallen branch just a little further away. _Of course. _How could she be so stupid?

She scrambles to the branch. Once in her arms she feels secure, like a warrior who has been given a sword. She stands, gazing at the branch like it is made from gold.

"Seriously?" She draws a breath of surprise as she whirls round, coming face to face with the vampire. She can't see his face in the dark – it seems even the moon is against her tonight – but she can hear the evil smile on his face. She watches his profile move closer to her. "You're going to try to kill me...with _that_?"

Elena stands poised, ready to stab. He watches her for a moment, and then she hears a low chuckle from his throat. "I must admit, I'm surprised. I didn't think you would wear _and _drink vervain." He gives a small shrug. "Still, makes it even more entertaining." He moves closer to her.

She takes a chance: without thinking she shoots forward, branch in hand. It all happens too quickly for her though; she hears a giant _crack_, and suddenly she's in his arms. His hands hold onto her arms, right on her elbows. They grip her so hard she can't even bend them. Eyes scanning, she sees the branch on the floor, broken in two.

_Stupid, _she thinks. _I should have kept running. _

"Now," he says, his voice as sweet as honey but nowhere near as good for her. "Are we done?"

She lifts her gaze. He's got her so close to him that she can see the colour of his eyes. They're ice cold blue, and Elena has a feeling that his soul is exactly like that too.

"Not even close," she informs him.

She doesn't expect his grin, lighting up his face. "Good," he says. "I hate being bored."

**xXx **

God, she's feisty. He's had her in his possession for less than five minutes and she's already made an escape attempt and tried to kill him.

He hasn't had this much fun in a while.

He takes her into his car. She fights him the entire way, her hair flying through the air as she swings her arms at him. It's almost too easy though; she only succeeds in tiring herself out. He shoves her in the car and slams the door; a second later he's in the front seat and the doors are locked, so when she tries the door it refuses to budge.

Damon starts the car. "I can catch you, y'know," he informs her. She doesn't reply, just keeps attempting the open the door. "Put your seatbelt on." When she doesn't comply he feels justified when he shoves her head into the glass. She falls against it, unconscious.

He straps her in, touching her now that she can't fight him. Her skin is a little darker than average, warm and smooth. Finger on her temple, he feels the blood moving through her veins. He desperately wants a drink; wants to plunge his teeth into her skin, feel the sweet relief of blood slipping down his throat. But he knows that doing that now would be suicide; she has vervain in her system. Best wait until he's certain it's out of her.

It doesn't take him long to drive back to his home. It's a large, red-bricked house. Really it should be owned by a family, but Damon bought it for himself. Plenty of room for him and his...guests. He slips out the car and carries the girl out with him. A bruise is already forming on the side of her head, but she still groans. He stills, standing outside, waiting to see if she'll wake up. A thousand emotions flutter across her face before she settles again. He watches her for an extra moment before moving into the house.

The second he steps through the door a woman – girl, really – comes through to greet him. "You're back Mr Salvatore," she says. Her face has a smile on it, her eyes shining. "It's good to see you."

He doesn't enter into the conversation. She's compelled; she doesn't need conversation. She's here to serve him and only him. "Did you get the guest bedroom ready?" he asks her, making his way to the stairs.

The girl nods. "It's all ready Mr Salvatore," she answers.

"Good. Bring some water up to the bedroom, please." He hears her reply but doesn't focus on it. He has two girls to serve him, tidying the house and providing blood when he needs it. Not that he'll need them for a little while. He's got this girl to play with.

**xXx **

A dull ache resonates from her head. Every time she tries to move her head, it throbs. She feels strange, like she's on an airplane and her stomach's not quite well. She shifts in her sleep and the second she moves her feet they scream in pain. It wakes her properly, and she opens her eyes, trying and failing to sit up again.

The room is spacious: there is a desk and a row of shelves on the wall. On the other side there is a window. The curtains are open and Elena can see that its night. The moon peeks out from behind a cloud, as if shy. The bed is large enough for another person; it's an old-fashioned bed, with a dark wood head and bottom.

Her feet are at the bottom of the bed. They have no choice: a chain is wound round one of the prongs at the end of the bed and attaches itself to both her feet. Bemused and feeling fear descend, she tries to move them, but every time she brings one foot further up the bed it pulls the other further down.

Panic fills her body. She puts her hands to the chain. The metal is cold and stiff; no matter how hard she tugs she can't pull it apart. After a few minutes of pulling does it dawn on her that she is not alone.

She turns her head and quite simply, there he is; her captor. He's leaning against the doorframe of where she assumes is the bathroom, watching her. His expression doesn't seem fearsome though. If anything it's indifferent.

She waits for him to say something. Instead he moves towards her. She moves to the other side of the bed, honestly terrified now. It's bad; she can't escape him, not right this second. That's all he needs to hurt her. But he doesn't move to her face, to her neck, but to the bottom of the bed. Instead he sits at the bottom and brings her feet to him. She wonders if that's where he'll start, drinking her body from her foot first and then moving up to her arm and then her neck.

Instead he puts them in his lap and puts a medical kit on the bed. She hadn't seen it in his hand (she had been too focused on his mouth). She watches as he takes out a bandage and begins to wrap it round one foot, then the other. She doesn't like to think that he is being tender, but he doesn't hurt her. She didn't notice how bad her feet were: there are cuts all over them and they are practically blue. He rubs something into a particularly bad cut. It stings, but she won't let _him _know that.

"You were stupid to run," he says abruptly. His eyes are still on his task; he doesn't look at her.

She is feeling a little braver. He's looking after her, so he can't be all bad. She expected him to have tortured her by now: teasing her, taunting her. So she says, "What choice did I have?"

He raises his gaze, and she notes how the playful lit has gone. He's cold eyes are serious. "You could have come willingly."

She snorts. She pauses for a few moments before saying, "I know what you are."

The corner of his mouth lifts up. She immediately looks to his eyes, and sure enough they are teasing again. But it isn't the fun games that she and her brother used to play; it's dark, and inwardly she shudders. "I know."

"So I know what you want with me." She sits straighter, trying to seem strong. She keeps her head lifted and keeps contact with his eyes, even though it feels as if each second she looks at him he is burning her, melting her from inside out. "I have vervain in my system-"

"Don't insult my intelligence," he says. He doesn't snap, but there is muted anger in his tone. "I knew you had vervain as soon as you tried to run after I compelled you."

She narrows her gaze. "Then I guess you know that if you try to drink from me you'll be weakened by my blood. Why keep me?"

He finishes bandaging her feet. Placing them aside he disappears and reappears again, right in front of her. She recoils, but he doesn't harm in; in fact he's holding a glass of water. He hands it to her and she takes it, unsure what else to do. She isn't particularly thirsty – or rather, she wasn't until she saw it. Suddenly all she can think about is taking a drink. But it looks foggy and she doesn't trust it – him. As she eyes this she can feel his gaze on her. "If you don't drink," he says, "I will force it down your throat." His voice is soft and seductive, but in a way that makes his words all the more terrifying.

She raises her face. "What's in it?"

"Painkillers," he answers tightly. "For your feet." He waits, watching her. She squirms under his gaze, hating him and vampires in general. She can't resist though. Her feet aren't very painful and she's sure that as long as she doesn't walk on them (_as if I could!_) they should be fine. But her head is killing her. With resignation she takes a sip and begins to drink, gulping it greedily. Even though it doesn't taste very nice it makes her feel better instantly.

As soon as she's done he's there, taking the glass from her and placing it on the bedside table. "Time for bed," he announces, like he's her father or something. Just thinking about her father makes her heart clench and her hate increase tenfold. He goes to the wardrobe and pulls out some blankets. He pulls them over her, confusing her even more. Why does he care? Why is he acting this way?

She notices then, as he lifts the sheets over her, that she isn't in her pyjamas. She's wearing a grey sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms, the fleece kind. They comforting and warm on her skin, but how did they get on her?

Or rather _who _put them on her?

He switches the light off before she can ask – or even think about asking. The world is brought into darkness and she can now only see his figure again. She pulls the sheets closer to her. Little good it does; he bends down, and for one crazy moment she thinks he's going to kiss her. But instead he puts his mouth to her ear.

"You're here because I'm bored; you're here because I'd already burnt down your house and I thought I might as well see what I started through; and you're here because the vervain will be out of your system by tomorrow evening." He pauses; she can hear her speeding heartbeat. "Maybe by lunch." He chuckles at the joke and heads out the room.

"Who are you?" Elena calls. She doesn't know why she wants to know; maybe it's because she wants to know who to curse during the night.

He doesn't pause. "Damon," he answers before the door is closed, trapping her in the room.

**xXx **

She fights sleep for as long as she can, but her body is exhausted and she is now pretty sure that he – Damon now – gave her sedatives. She sleeps dreamlessly for once, and when she wakes up the sun is pouring in the room like a painting. She jolts up when she realises that he has been watching her.

He's standing by the window. When she wakes up he smiles, but it's the smile of a shark. "Sleep well?" he asks.

She bites back a snarl and sits up, giving the chains another jerk. Her feet are aching, but not too badly. She will probably be able to walk on them without it hurting so much. Damon moves forward and unlocks the chain around her feet. She pulls her legs up to her body instantly, like a caged animal: nervous and protective.

Damon reacts as if he hasn't seen. "You can use the bathroom," he says, going to the chest of drawers. Resting his arm against it, he smiles again, but Elena notes how his eyes don't light up. "I'll wait."

Elena is hesitant, but the second he's suggested it she's desperate to go to the bathroom. She glances at him, and once again she finds him staring at her. She hates it, the way he gazes at her, as if he's trying to get under his skin. And yes, he is.

She hides in the bathroom. Closing the door she hurriedly uses the toilet. Once done she stares at her reflection in the mirror, not at all anxious to give up her freedom just yet. She has little doubt that he will chain her up again, and so she needs to think of an escape plan. She puts both taps on and ducks down to the cabinet. She is surprised that the bathroom is filled with items such as a toothbrush and shampoo – _normal _things.

Things like a shaver.

She doesn't know how long she stares at it. Slowly she picks it up, running her finger against the blade. It doesn't hurt but if she pushed hard enough...

It's not for Damon. That's the crazy thing. It's for _her_. Just in case.

When she stands, she wishes she'd already used it.

She catches Damon's reflection in the mirror. A gasp escapes her and she whirls round, blade still in hand. She's forgotten how truly terrified she is of him when he looks at her like that: his eyes are shroud in angry fire; her face is like a thundercloud waiting to break. She waits for the blow to come.

Instead she feels his hand cover her wrist and lift it. Again her imagination wanders, thinking that he's going to bite her. He tries to take the shaver out her hand, but Elena tightens her grip on it. He sends her a heated look before beginning to peel her hand open, one finger at a time.

When the shaver is out of her hand he carefully puts it on the sink. Grip still on her wrist, his sudden yank takes her by surprise. "What are you?" he asks her through gritted teeth. "Stupid?"

"Fuck you," Elena snarls.

As a response he throws her on the bed. Despite the softness it hurts, and she bites back a groan. He must use his supernatural speed because her legs are chained back together. This time though she is on her stomach, and so she can't turn over.

"I'll be back," she hears Damon promise, a taunt. She can hear – _feel _– the fury in his tone, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She hears the door open a close, once again leaving her alone with nothing in her stomach but fear.

**xXx **

He's going to kill someone, and for once it's not planned. He's angry though, and the way he's driving he's sure he'll hit someone. He needs to get out the house though, needs to keep up the pretence of being normal – and after the fire at the Gilbert house, that essential.

Once parked, he rests in the car for a moment. For a few seconds he simply stares down at the steering wheel. With a sudden movement he punches it so hard the horn gives a beep and people glance over.

He leans against the seat, closing his eyes. He forces himself to take deep, calming breaths. He can't explain why he's so furious; why he wants to find a brick wall and punch it, because punching something soft like a pillow just wouldn't give him satisfaction.

She was going to kill herself.

It's stupid, it's confused, it makes no sense – but he thought she was tougher than that. Finding out that she isn't, well... That just disappoints him.

**xXx **

Throughout the day Elena waits for him to make good on his threat. It's all she can do; she can't even sit up because she's forced to lie on her front. A maid brings her food though, which she manages to have a few weak bites of. At first she tries to get help from the girl, but after her responses (and a bite mark on her neck) it becomes apparent that the girl is compelled. She'll be no help.

Elena waits. Dinner comes and goes and she's even allowed to use the bathroom (supervised of course) and still Damon doesn't return. Night falls and he's still not back. Elena begins to feel a little safer. Maybe he won't be back tonight. Maybe he won't drink her blood yet. Maybe – by miracle of miracles – the vervain will still be in her system.

She begins drifting off, the tension in her body causing her exhaustion, when she hears the door open and close. Immediately she is alert. She forces herself to breathe normally, so Damon will think she is asleep and perhaps leave her alone.

Instead she feels him touch her chains. A loud _cling _echoes through the room; he's broken them away from her feet. When she doesn't move, she hears his voice – which doesn't even attempt to be charming – command, "Get up."

She doesn't have time to weigh the pros and cons before she is roughly jerked upwards. Her body, already stiff from being in that position for so long, shoots with pain, but Elena will be damned if she lets him know how much it hurts.

He lifts her face to his. He's so close to her, she can feel his breath on her skin. Her legs want to buckle but his grip keeps her straight. He looks into her face, his eyes bearing down on hers. "You can't leave the inside of this house without my permission."

Unwilling Elena repeats the sentence, and dread fills her stomach that she wishes she hadn't eaten the little she had. It vervain is out of her body. He can do anything to her.

He stares at her for a moment longer before releasing her. He goes to the window and flings it open. The cold air comes through, but Elena is eager to feel it. She hasn't been outside in over twenty four hours. She's done that before, but the thing is, it was _her _choice.

He turns back to her. "Stick your hand out the window," he says. "If you can, I'll let you go."

She can't. Elena already knows the compulsion has worked its magic, and that she won't be able to. She stands there, begging her frozen mind to communicate some plan, some way to get out of this.

She waits too long. The window is slammed down and Damon steps in front of it, bringing the room into darkness. But she can still see the grin on his voice and the light in his eyes. His voice, it's eager; "It seems the vervain has gone."

Elena begins to back away from him. "You don't know that," she says, but her heart is hammering and she knows that it's a dead giveaway. "There could still be-"

"Nice try." He steps closer to her. His muscles are tight, and she is reminded of a panther ready to pounce. "But I think you protest too much."

He comes at her. She moves back, but it's not fast enough. She feels his teeth sink into her. The pain spreads through her neck, on her right side. She doesn't mean to, but she screams.

It doesn't stop him.

**xXx **

Oh Lord, how sweet her blood is. At the first taste Damon is caught, and for a minute he is blissfully lost in it. It's like no blood he has tasted before, and he has lived for over a hundred years. It's strange, but he doesn't mull it over for too long.

What is even stranger though is that the taste – his need for the blood, _this _blood – dies almost instantly. It goes after a minute or so.

Another desire grows. Perhaps it was always there, hiding, and only now is it hitting him full force.

So he drains her, just enough so that she's nearly unconscious – enough so she can't fight him – and then he puts her down on the bed, tears off her clothes, pulls her legs apart, and pushes his dick into her.

She cries out. He doesn't know if it's because she can feel him or if she's too far gone to know what's happening. He doesn't think about it too much. He moves inside her, faster and faster, his body lost in a dance of desire before he is finally released. He gives a gasp when he's done and she – eyes closed – moans.

He takes himself out of her and falls down on the bed. His heart is speeding away like a train. He can't catch his breath. He doesn't know whether it's because the sex was so good or because she didn't want him, and that made him want her all the more.

**xXx **

Elena wakes up in pain again. It's the sunlight that has woken her, and when she opens her eyes she moves her hand to block it from her eyes. She's sore. It hurts everywhere, especially near her neck. Her hand goes to the sore area and what she feels disturbs her. Looking down she sees it: the dry blood, the teeth marks that have punctured her skin.

Then she remembers: him coming towards her, biting her, screaming and fighting until she felt too weak to even keep her eyes open. And then, a dream she thinks, vague flashes of being on the bed, her clothes pulled off her body, and then pain...

Tears fill her eyes as it comes back to her. Her hand goes to her mouth and she wants to cry out, but she doesn't.

She's right not to, because on the bed next to her is her captor; her rapist.

His head is turned towards her, but his eyes are closed and his breathing is even. He appears to be in blissful sleep, and Elena isn't going to be the one to bring him out of it. Carefully and very, very slowly – even though everything in her body is screaming at her to run – she gets off the bed. She presses her lips together to stop herself from moaning. The area between her legs is sore and painful, and even taking a step sends shoots of pain down there.

She doesn't have a plan. All she knows is that she needs to get _out_. She knows he's compelled her to stay inside the house, but she'll find a way out. _There must be_. She can't stay here.

By the time she gets the door she has nearly collapsed from pain and fear. Holding her breath she takes the door handle and turns it, inching the door forward little by little.

_Slam! _The door is pushed closed and Elena falls back a little from surprise. It causes more pain and she cries out this time, though that could be the shock as well. She nearly hits the floor but hands catch her. _His _hands.

"I don't think you have any reason to be leaving this bedroom," his soft voice murmurs, too close to her ear. "Not quite yet."

He turns her around so she's facing the bedroom again. Elena fights though, and somehow she manages to get out of his grasp. She whirls round to look at him. His bottom half is naked but he's still wearing his shirt, and some leftover pride strikes her. _He couldn't be bothered to take it off? _But her disloyal eyes fall below the shirt, and her heart skips a beat when she realises it's _hard_.

_Oh God no. _

"Stay away from me!" she cries. She tries to keep looking at him, but her eyes dart back and forth, searching for a weapon. The shaver – can she make it-?

In a flash he's in front of her. She hasn't moved to the bed – she doesn't think she can look at it without the memories rushing back to her. Instead she's against the desk. He grabs her – _no, don't touch me with those hands! _– and turns her round. Facing away, she cannot see his expression, whether it is indifferent or eager and he places his hand between her legs and begins to make room –

"No, please, _stop_." She is sobbing, trying to fight him. But it's not enough, he's too strong. He pushes her against the desk so hard that it's digging into her stomach. He spreads her legs wide enough and with a well-aimed shove –

She feels it this time; she's too awake. She feels the blunt force of his dick as he pushes himself inside her. It hurts, God it hurts and she grips the desk even tighter when her legs feel too weak to keep her up. He moves, he is moving inside her and it doesn't feel right. He's in her body – he's part of her body, but she can't control it and she can't stop it. He's controlling her body. It's not hers anymore.

His lips move to her ear, and once again that soft voice is in her ear. "You're mine now," he whispers. With each word he jerks, shoving himself further into her. "You do as I say." A few moments, and then a sharp nip on her ear. "Answer me," he commands.

Words escape her. The will to fight leaves her, is brought down like the Berlin wall as he moves further into her. She doesn't know how, but she hears herself say, "I'm yours now. I do as you say."

She feels his lips on her neck. She flinches but this time they are soft. "Good girl," he murmurs. He reaches his hand to her breast and strokes it, up and down. "Good girl."

She doesn't know how long this goes on. Time seems to have no existence anymore. She picks a spot on the wall and keeps her eyes on it as he moves in her. His breathing becomes faster, more laboured, and she can sense that he's finishing.

There's a knock on the door and Elena hears a voice which seems somewhere at the other end of a tunnel. "Am I interrupting?"

"No Sarah," Damon answers. He can barely get his words out. "Run Elena a bath please." There is a note of satisfaction in his voice when he adds, "She'll be needing one."

Fresh tears come down, this time from humiliation. The girl – Sarah – has come in, has watched as Damon – _cunt _– has...forced himself upon her and he doesn't even have the decency to be ashamed. He just lets her stride in and start the bath while she is being defiled.

Once Sarah has left Elena hears Damon let out a final groan and she feels it then, the release inside her. The thought of it inside her, a part of him deep in her that she can't get out, makes her feel incredibly weak. He moves away and without him holding her up she falls to the floor, too sick and too stunned to stop herself.

She doesn't look at Damon as he dresses. She can hear him moving and feel the weight of his gaze on her as he changes. Then footsteps and he's coming back towards her. Elena can't move from fear, her heart hammering – _please no, not again, please God no _– and she even thinks she'll faint when he stops. She closes her eyes.

A kiss is placed on the temple of her head. It's gentle, but far from being sweet, it feels like a brand mark; he's reminding her that he owns her. She belongs to him.

"Go take a bath," she hears him say. He runs his hand down her hair. "I'll clear up in here."

**xXx **

He watches as she goes into the bathroom and locks the door. Surely she must know he can break through it if he wanted to? That at any moment he could enter? That no matter where she is, he can find her. He always will.

He's amazed at how good the sex is. He's never felt this type of _need _for someone, at least not sexually. He loves how she tries to fight him. It amuses him, that she thinks he'll stop if she asks. He adores it, the struggle. What's even better is when he forces her into domination.

He straightens up the bedroom and gives instructions to Sarah. He has to leave soon, for a meeting with some local vampires. How the hell he's going to get through the next twelve hours he doesn't know.

**xXx **

As soon as she's in the bathroom, she goes for the shaver. She isn't surprised to find that it has gone, but only when she feels despair sinking in she realises how much she depended on it. She sinks down to the floor and let's tears fall, finally giving in to terror and sadness.

She goes in the bath in the end. She doesn't dare refuse him. After seeing what he can do – what he's capable of – she will do what he says, and he told her to take a bath. It feels good though, the warm water against the soreness between her legs.

She scrubs hard _down there_. It aches but she wants to be clean of him. There is blood there, between her legs, and it stings when she washes herself, but she doesn't know any other way. She won't have him down there. The very thought of him being there, _inside her_, where she can't reach, is killing her.

She does throw up in the end. Her stomach heaves and when she finally collapses beside the toilet she is sweating. Her entire body is shutting down. Or maybe that's not the right word. Maybe her body doesn't belong to her anymore. It's Damon's property now.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom (she's hidden in there for three hours) Sarah is waiting for her. The little maid beams at her, and at that moment Elena hates her, curses her for being so pathetically stupid, even though it's not her fault. "I have breakfast for you," she says, gesturing to the tray placed on the bedside table. "And Damon left you this. He said you would have wanted something to wear."

She leaves Elena in the room. She looks to the bed. Placed on it is a nightgown. It's nearly white with only the barest hint of pink, shimmering in the sunlight.

_Of course. He wants his property to look nice. _

As much as she doesn't want to wear it, she slips it over her body. She has nothing else. Truth is, she'd rather walk around wearing something he's given her than walk around naked.

**xXx **

He comes back, once again late at night. She was expecting him, but even so... She grips the sheets tightly with her hands and buries her face into the pillow, so maybe he will think that she's sleeping and will leave her.

Some hope.

She hears rustling; suddenly he's on the bed, on top of her. She stifles a gasp of surprise which makes him laugh, though to be honest she's not really surprised. She's scared.

Finally she moves her face upwards. Even through the darkness she can see his eyes, the cool ice. There's no warmth in them. Of course there isn't. He's a vampire.

He holds his hand out. With some hesitation she gives him her arm. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so willing to have him drain her blood if she hadn't know what else he could do – something much worse.

He takes it, and she feels the teeth go into her wrist. It's more painful this time. She gasps and out of habit tries to pull away. He increases his hold and after a few moments of struggle Elena turns away, giving in.

She's learning lately that he always wins.

It must only be half a minute when he pulls away. Elena – despite everything – doesn't understand. Surely he wants to drain her? Surely this was the whole _point _of her being here?

Why does it not feel that way?

"Sweet," he says. He takes her hand, moving it behind his head. Her fingers run through his hair, and for one moment – maybe it's her mind needing an escape – she is taken by how soft it is. Smooth, clean and short. Once upon a time she liked guys with hair like this. Before they became rapists. "But that's not what I want."

She fights. Her legs were tucked underneath her body, but he's determined. With both hands and superior strength he pulls them forward, tucks them under his arms and moves towards her. She cries out. Now she can't remember what she said exactly, but she remembers that she begged. She remembers that he ignores her. She remembers, all too vividly, the feeling of him entering her. She knows why he wanted her to wear the nightgown now – all he has to do is lift it up. Once again pain reigns. He's raped her too often; she's sore now. She needs a break, and the hope that she's getting one is fading. He seems to enjoy raping her more than he likes feeding from her.

She cries then. She doesn't care that he sees. It doesn't stop him again. She feels him inside her, slowly taking her body from her and moulding it into something of his own creation.

**xXx**

It becomes routine. She loses how many nights he comes into her room – they all blur together as one long, excruciating memory, one she wishes she could forget. Every night he enters her bedroom (not her bedroom; it's _his_ room) and forces himself inside her without excuse or apology.

The first few nights – maybe it's a week; hell, maybe it's two – she cries every time he rapes her. He must get tired of it pretty quickly, because now he flips her onto her stomach instead. She prefers it that way really. She doesn't have to worry about him seeing her expression. Then again, she feels his hands move through her hair often, and sometimes he reaches in front and nips her breast with his fingers to cause more movement from her hips.

One thing that confuses her: he's stopped feeding off her. He only fed from her the first nights. After that when she offers him her arm he simply moves it so it's on his neck, focussing on another task altogether.

Now he finishes inside her (she can feel the hot liquid inside her, and it churns her stomach) and rolls to the other side. He falls asleep pretty quickly. Elena's always grateful for that. Sometimes he's still awake, and when he is he plays with her body, touching her hair and stroking her breasts. Cautiously she gets up from the bed. She's right to be wary; at first any small movement she made was liable to wake him up, and then he would bring her towards him and...well, you know the rest.

She goes into the bathroom and closes the door. A second later she is by the toilet seat, dry heaving into it. The first few nights she couldn't stop herself from throwing up. Now it seems Damon has finally gained control of her body, because she's not being sick anymore.

When she comes out the bathroom he is awake. She can tell by the shape of his body. His head is up and, through the light of the window, she sees him reach out a hand.

"Come here," he says simply, and Elena's own traitorous hand slips into his.

**xXx **

It's Beth that tells him Elena's not eating. Damon's in his bedroom when she informs him of this. It's the third day in a row now, and Damon knows he's got to do something. He dismisses Beth and goes, stopping to glance in the mirror. He's smoothes his hair down a little, and on second thought rustles it. For some reason he's nervous.

He doesn't bother knocking when he enters her room, but he doesn't speed in either. He walks through the door and then casually leans against the drawers. When he comes in Elena glances up, sees him, and tucks her legs underneath her body.

In the daylight he sees her properly: she's pale, and way too skinny. She was when Damon first saw her, but now her collarbone is very visible. There are dark circles underneath her eyes. And the second wave of guilt hits him. The first was one of the first few times he had sex with her, glancing down and seeing her crying. For some reason it struck a chord in him. From now on he flips her on her stomach when he has sex with her, because he doesn't have to look at her face.

"Any requests for your next meal?" He puts a smile on his face, despite the fact he doesn't feel it. "Steak and chips? A hot dog? Ice cream?"

"No thanks," Elena says faintly. He's not sure what she was answering no to – all three?

"Cause, y'know, you're not eating." He stands straight, but Elena doesn't say anything. She's lying on the bed. Despite the fact she doesn't do anything during the day except have a bath, she looks exhausted. Damon wonders how much sleep she's getting. How can he not know this?

With a weighted sigh he moves to the bed. She tenses and he ignores it. He sits on the side and moves his hand to her head, stroking the top of it. To his surprise she doesn't cry. Good. Maybe she's getting used to him now.

"Elena," he says (the first time he says her name; it sends a tingle through his body), "you need to eat."

She seems to mould herself in a ball. "No," she says. There is a sliver more strength in her voice this time.

"You'll die." Elena's voice maybe stronger, but Damon can feel his patience running low. He won't allow her to die. He refuses. He gotten too used to her – to having sex every day. It's an addiction by now. No one can replace her, he's beginning to realise that.

She faces him, and for the first time in a long while he sees the power in her eyes, the girl she once was. "_No_," she replies. Resolute, she turns away from him.

He feels it snap then. In speed even he's impressed with, he grabs her hair as he bites into his wrist. Before Elena can even acknowledge what's happening his cut wrist is against her mouth and the blood is flooding down her throat. Eyes widen; she grips his arm but is unable to move it. He waits until he's sure she's swallowed some before taking his wrist away. She crawls further up the bed, coughing and wiping her mouth.

He pauses, waiting for her to get her breath back, before going for her again. She fights him, but he only takes her chin so she's looking at him. "I've just given you some of my blood," he informs her. "Do you know what that means?"

Her lip trembles. "Yes."

He releases her, satisfied. Standing he straightens himself, pulling his shirt straight. He's back: his cool, detached self again. Glancing back at her he says, "You should take better care of your body."

He's leaving when he hears her answer back. "Don't you mean _your _body?" she snaps.

He stills by the doorway. When he turns back at her, his face is expressionless. "Then I command you to take care of it."

**xXx**

He doesn't really think about it: he sends Beth and Sarah out the kitchen and stares at the stove. He hasn't cooked for decades. Okay, maybe that's exaggerating. Even he sometimes fancies messing about in the kitchen. But he's always cooked for _himself_. Not for anyone else. For some reason this makes him nervous, and hundred year old recipes that he's perfected over the years suddenly don't seem to be good enough. What's with him today? He's second guessing himself, something he hasn't done in nearly a century. Since when did he care what other people thought?

_You mean since when do you care about what _she _thinks? _

He pushes that to the back of his head. He's just having an off day. That's all.

It takes him a while, but eventually he's pleased with the final product. He's made pasta, his own meat and tomato sauce with basil sprinkled over the top. It smells heavenly, and even he – the drinker of blood – gives it a taste. He closes his eyes and he's back in Italy, when he was little, watching his grandfather make this very pasta. Everything was brighter then: things were more certain; he knew then that he was going to live and then die, that some things didn't change.

Now the days are the same colour, a bland grey, blending into one after another...

Until Elena came along, that is.

Sarah takes it up to her and Damon waits in the kitchen, flipping through a book he might fancy reading. Half an hour goes by and Sarah brings the plate back down again. He makes himself act casual as he glances upwards. His heart defies him when it gives a leap of joy to see the plate practically clean.

He knows she probably ate because she didn't want to become a vampire. Yet a small part of him kindles awake after a long sleep (later he defines this as hope) thinking that maybe she ate it all because she actually liked it.

**xXx **

Another night of torture: Elena turns away as he enters. She hears him changing and notes how he takes his time. It's as if he wants to make it longer for her, play with his toy a little more. She doesn't even have death as an escape option now.

All too quickly he's on the bed. He touches her body, running his hands over her skin. This time he lifts the nightgown completely off her body. Sometimes he does this. Sometimes he likes to look at her body for a while before he rapes her. She thinks he likes to look at his prize, his property, stroke and touch and play with it a little before he actually does what he came to do. She presses her face against the pillow. She can't watch him look at her. When he does this his eyes are shining with greed, like a spoilt child. It makes her feel sick.

He's predictable now. When he skims his fingers down her leg she knows what he wants her to do. Inwardly she gives a humourless laugh. _He's taken his time, hasn't he? Carefully trained his little whore to know his tells. _She does as he bids her, separating her legs as if curtains are parting, paper is being unwrapped to reveal the present underneath it. She no longer fights him. She's learnt that it's pointless, only prolonging her pain.

He falls asleep quickly afterwards, but Elena can't. She lies as straight as a board under the sheets, her hands turned into fists. She feels dirty. She can no longer look at her body any more without feeling sick. After all, this is what made him want her.

Queasiness pools in the pit of her stomach as the sun begins to rise. It's become routine for Damon to have her in the morning now too. Apparently raping her at night isn't enough for him. Sure enough she feels him stir beside him. Sleepily he fingers her hair before flipping her on her stomach like a pancake. This morning he is harsher than usually: he enters her harder so she cries out. She tries not to yell anymore, sometimes biting her lip so hard it bleeds a little. She gets the feeling that he enjoys making her scream. He goes faster, pushing further into her. His hands are clutching her hips, using that to help him move. She stretches her hands out, grabbing the headboard. It hurts again. The area between her legs is constantly sore now, though it seems to becoming less painful. Even so, it's been a while since he's been this rough.

When he's done he falls to the other side of the bed. She waits for a moment or two before she slowly pulls up legs up, curling in a ball. She's probably bleeding again. Surely this can't be how sex is meant to be? Surely it isn't this painful, this dreaded? People looked forward to this. Most people anyway.

She doesn't realise she's crying again until Damon wipes a tear from her eye. She flinches from his touch (she hates it when he touches her with his hands, hands that have pinned her to the bed when she's been fighting, slipped between her legs to separate them, grabbed her hair to keep her head still so he can put his blood down her throat).

"I thought we were done with this," he says quietly, as if she's disappointed him. It takes her a second to realise he's talking about her crying.

Then to her surprise he sits up and takes her in his arms, pulling her onto his lap. She stiffens. This is supposed to be kind, but he turns her so she's facing the same way he is, once again taking choice from her.

Chin on top of her head, arms round her chest, he says, "It won't always be like this. One day you'll enjoy it."

She snorts, not meaning to, but the thought of her ever enjoying _that _is idiotic.

He isn't mad though. He gives a little chuckle and lifts his hand, stroking her face. "You're so young Elena." A shiver springs down her spine when he says her name. She doesn't like it; it's another thing that he's taken from her. "You've barely lived."

"How old are you?" The question takes them both by surprise. Before Elena hasn't cared about his life, has no interest in asking. But her mouth seemed to take a life of its own.

He doesn't get annoyed, though she thinks he is when he doesn't answer. Finally he says, "Old enough." She knows not to ask anymore.

Suddenly he kisses the side of his head and he's getting up, getting dressed. This time at the doorway he pauses. Hand on the frame, he half turns. "You don't have to stay in this room," he informs her. "If I wanted you to be in here I would have compelled you to stay here. You can go to other parts of the house."

Then, as if he's embarrassed, he leaves quickly. This time the door is left open.

**xXx **

She has spent a long time in this room. She doesn't know exactly how long Damon has kept her prisoner, but it has been at the very least two weeks, maybe three. Time seems to cease in this house, as well as temperature. It's always boiling. Good thing she supposes, because the only item of clothing she has is the nightgown.

With a deep breath she leaves the room, stepping out for the first time. She's half expecting Damon to jump out at her, but the hallways are empty and slowly she starts down the corridor.

The floors are made of dark wood, and the walls are painted dark red (she half-wonders whether it's with the blood of his victims). She studies some pictures, but they're pretty dull: old maps, written in a language that she doesn't understand. She places her hand against the glass, wondering whether these are maps that Damon once drew himself. She tries to image him thousands of years ago, wearing armour and bending over a map, pointing out the area that the enemy will come from.

She doesn't look in any of the rooms (not yet) until she meets a set of double doors. They're painted white with gold handles, and there is something about this door that makes her still. A sense of foreboding perhaps, and yet at the same time a surprise too.

It takes her only a minute to open them. It takes her another minute to actually move.

When she steps into the room, she has to blink a thousand times to make sure this isn't her imagination. It's a library. But not just any library: it's an _enormous _cavern filled with books, shelf upon shelf of books: big thick ones with tattered covers and faded golden lettering; tiny ones that look as if you could read in an hour; ones with glossy covers; she even spots teenage books, such as an old version of _The Twins at St Clare. _

For the first time since she arrived here, she smiles. It's perhaps the prettiest smile that anyone would have seen: it's the smile of someone given a gift, a smile on the face of someone who thought they would never smile again; who perhaps even believed they had forgotten how to. She can't help but give a little laugh. It bubbles out of her and bursts in the air. She rushes between the shelves, fingering books that she finds interesting or books that she knows (all the Phillippa Gregory novels surprisingly, Charles Dickens – of course – and _Stolen_ by Lucy Christopher). There are some in different languages, and some big fat historical books that, she was sure, would give anyone who used them an A in their history paper.

She lifts her head, for the shelves seem to go on forever. The ceiling is made of glass, a circular dome that looked as if it would be better placed in a palace. For a moment Elena is once again hit with despair, for she doesn't know where she is. She was unconscious when he brought her here; she doesn't even know what the building looks like from the outside. But she doesn't allow herself to think about that for very long. She spots another book, one that she has wanted to read for a long time, and it brings a smile to her face.

The library is so big it takes her about two hours before she has explored all of it, and only in brief. When she arrives to the furthest end of the library she sees another door, this one of a dark brown colour. She opens it eagerly, thinking that perhaps it leads to another library.

Instead it's another surprise. A large television screen covers one side of the wall. There is also a cosy leather sofa is just a few feet in front of it, and a stone fireplace at the side. The rest of the room is covered in shelves, but not of books this time. There are rows and rows of DVDs, of both old films and ones that are still in cinema. It makes Elena pause when she thinks this. Has she been in this house so long that the films in the cinema were now out on DVD?

She picks out _The Vow_, because it's one that she wanted to see – before, when she believed in love. She doesn't know why she picks it now. Maybe it reminds her of the girl she used to be.

She doesn't know how long she sits in that room. At some point Sarah comes in with a drink of coke (she hasn't had that in so long that she savours every drop) and a bowl of popcorn. Content, she sits there and waits film after film, letting the drama and romance wash over her. It's been so long since she's been able to lose herself.

She doesn't know how long he's been in the room – she's watching _The Vow _again, simply because she can't get it out of her head. She can't explain it, but suddenly she feels him _there_, his presence in the room. All the breath leaves her body and she consciously folds her legs together, eyes on the television.

Attempting to be discreet (and failing) he sits next to her. Both of them keep their eyes on the screen. The girl is saying that she's sick of disappointing him. He's leaving her. To her surprise, she feels her heart break a little at that. She didn't think she had any feeling left.

Cautiously he places a hand round Elena's shoulders. Then, very gently, pulls her closer to him. Two conflicting emotions hit her: the desperate desire to pull away from him, while at the same time there is a quiet pleasure running through her blood, a need equally desperate just to be held. Even if it is by a vampire.

They continue watching the film, as the two main characters go through the motions of moving on but don't really mean it. At some point Elena even forgets who she's with, she gets lost in the film again. By the time it ends there is peacefulness deep inside her, like warm ocean waves lapping across her body. A happy ending – what's wrong with that?

As the credits roll Damon flicks the television off and stands. With a sudden jolt Elena realises that it's dark, and somehow the day has passed easily and quickly. He turns, holding his hand out to her. "Come," he says quietly.

In that instant Elena's heart sinks. She knows what he means.

Once in the bedroom he pushes her down on the bed. She thinks he'll do it then, but instead he goes to his own wrist and rips into it. A second later he's forced it to her lips. He does this daily now, to make sure that she eats. As long as he does this, she will. The last thing she wants is to become a vampire.

He hikes the nightgown up and slowly slips inside her.

"You're never going to stop, are you?" The words just seem to slip out her mouth.

He doesn't pause. "No."

**xXx **

**Sorry if the ending seems abrupt. As mentioned previously I first wrote this as a one-shot, so in the original document this story was all on one file. I split it into three, trying to keep the word count more or less the same on each of them. **

**PLEASE REVIEW. I would like to know what people think of this story – if they think I am being too dark. **

**THANKS FOR READING!**


	2. Part II

**Hey! **

**So first of all I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed! I was really worried that this story might be too dark for people, but those who have reviewed have really reassured me. So a major thank you to you all, and those who have favourited/story alerted/author alerted/favourite authored. It really does mean a lot, I can't tell you how much. I hope you like this part just as much if not more!**

**To be fair Part I was the worst for rape/violence; there are still parts in the other two chapters, but not as much. **

**Some people have also been asking me how long this story is. This story has three parts – the next one will be the last one (so sad!) **

**ONE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW:**

**Klaus enters the story in this chapter. In this story Klaus is NOT an original – he's a normal vampire like Damon.**

**This is an AU story.**

**WARNING:**** This story is not like my usual stories. It is ****DARK**** and there are multiple ****RAPE**** scenes in this story. There is also multiple swearing and large amounts of sexual language and actions too. If you feel you cannot cope with rape/sex in stories than I would advise you not to read this story. ****You have been warned.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of the characters**

**xXx **

**Serendipity **

**Part II**

She stands by the window, staring outside. _Outside_. It's a world that she once knew, but now... She forgetting what it feels like: that stab as the cold air hits your lungs, as if you've just come up for air; the silence when snow has fallen, punctured only by the crunch of your footsteps; and the smell of honeysuckle in the summer. There used to be a bush right outside her room, so when it was a hot night she would leave the window open and in the morning she would be able to smell it.

It's the only indication that time has passed. The moonlight shows that there are only little dots of snow now, and the grass is springing up, dark and wet. Spring is coming, her favourite season. It would bring a smile to her face when she saw the snow drops appearing, and perk her up when the buds began to appear on the trees. Spring is better than summer, in her opinion; it's like the night before Christmas, waiting for something good to happen.

She pushes her hand to the glass. She can feel the coolness against her skin. It's the closest she can get. If only she could break it, could bring her hand right through it and take herself with her. She wants to _feel _again. The air in this house feels artificial, unreal. She wants real oxygen in her lungs.

But he comes up behind her. She's naked (he took her nightgown off her at some point during the night and she doesn't know where it is. She didn't want to look too hard in fear it might wake him. But she hates being naked now. It makes it too easy for him) and he wraps his arms round her. It's as if he's pinning her against him, silently reminding her that she's with _him _now. She can feel _it _growing hard, pressing against her body and she has to swallow down the vomit that threatens to crawl up her throat.

"You should be asleep," he says, his voice half-reprimanding, half-mocking.

She keeps her eyes on the moon. "I know."

He seems to be waiting for her to say something; but she won't give him that satisfaction.

They stand there, bathed in the moonlight for some time, quietly waiting for the other to make a move. A couple of people, both just as lost and just as tragic as each other, but neither of them knows it.

**xXx **

He watches her looking at herself in the mirror. She is beautiful, in a devastating-goddess, poetic sort of way. He's placed her in a white, flowing dress, almost like a toga but flashier, with a gold rope round her waist; her hair is tied back in a messy bun, with a golden headband on her head. Even though white isn't really her colour (doesn't go with her skin tone) and even though another fifty girls will be wearing the same outfit, she will stand out.

He's beginning to see that she always does.

"You're stunning," he says with his trademark smile. She doesn't acknowledge what he's said though, but continues to look in the mirror.

It irks him a little, and so he says, his voice with a hint more of command, "Come here." It's what he always says to her. She knows this is serious, and she turns and walks towards him, trying unsuccessfully to hide the flinch when she hears those words.

He pulls her onto his lap, purposefully placing her legs on either side. "Do you remember what I told you about tonight?"

She nods. "It's a vampire ball," she says.

"Not a ball," he corrects her. He tries not to be distracted by the front bit of her hair, falling away. He wants to tuck it behind her ear. "A meeting. Only male vampires will attend. Sort of like an old boys club." He runs his hand down her arm. "What else?"

"There will be a dinner," she answers. "I will serve you and only you."

"Good," he says approvingly, more at the words than her memory. "Continue."

"I won't talk to anyone else, unless I am spoken to."

"Well done," he says with a rewarding smile; she looks away. Once again he feels annoyance, and pulls her face so it looks back at him again. "No one will speak to you," he says reassuringly. "We don't talk to the women. Now..." He carefully tears into his own wrist and pushes it to her face. "Time for a drink."

Elena takes it without complaint. She can't fight him anymore, and he's thankful for it. He wants her alive. Not _need _– of course he doesn't need her, he doesn't need anybody. But he thinks he would be very upset if she died, more than if Sarah or Beth did.

He knows why. He knows it as he pulls down his trousers, boxers with them, and lifts up the hem of her dress. He watches her face this time, but it remains indifferent, only turning her head away from him and a quick wince as he pushes himself inside her.

Okay, maybe he does need her. Or rather, his body does. He's already had her three times today and he still wants more. He's never had this sexual urge before – but then, he's never had this sexual pleasure either. It even outweighs his desire for blood, and _that_ is saying something. Yes, her blood is sweet and has a nice taste, but in the end that's all it is. _This _feeling, the one he gets when he's inside her, is something he can neither describe nor replicate. She's like a drug. And what type of person is willing to get rid of their drug when they're this far gone?

**xXx **

Elena doesn't tell Damon – of course she doesn't – that she's nervous about tonight. She _hates _vampires, so much so that it almost hurts sometimes, thinking that a vampire is touching her. And now there are at least twenty male vampires in this house, along with their _slaves_.

She watches the men enter the house with their women. She's placed herself by the door so when it opens she feels the wind brush inside. It's strange, how a breeze feels foreign to her now. Despite the blood-sucking murders dotted around her, she feels giddy as the wind hits her cheeks.

She takes interest in the other women. Some are obviously compelled, looking round with blank eyes and equally bland smiles, completely oblivious to what is going on. Others though, are like her. They glance round nervously, their arms clasped tightly with their..._owners_. The vampires glance towards them with dark eyes and grins, and Elena shudders at them. Does Damon look at her that way? In some ways though, she is a little luckier than them. Most women, if not all, have teeth marks on their skin, as common as tattoos. Some look incredibly painful.

Damon makes fuss of one man in particular. The way they hug (a manly hug – even vampires have their pride) and joke, smiles on their faces indicates that they know each other well. He has light blonde hair and sharp, red lips with glass blue eyes. She thinks that he looks like one of those ugly dolls that little children have. She looks at his slave too. The girl has short chestnut coloured hair and is thin, like a bird. She is nervous too, her eyes flashing back and forth as if she expects to be attacked. There is a large bite on her neck, practically a scar, and Elena knows that this vampire bites her there often. Damon preferred to bite her wrist more than anywhere else. Subtly she glances down at her right wrist, though she's careful not to be obvious about it (Damon informed her that she has to be formal, almost regal). It's faint, but there are definitely markings of where he bit into her.

The door closes and Elena tries not to show her disappointment. Damon and the vampire move through into the great dining room. As they do so, Damon catches her eye. He sends her a quick wink, so fast that she almost misses it. It's like a scene from the movies, and for a very _very _brief half-second Elena feels like smiling back. Her eyes move to the other vampire, right behind Damon. To her surprise he's looking at her too. His gaze, it's masked and she can't read it, but she doesn't like it. Before she loses them in the dining room he sends her a smile. Hurriedly she drops her eyes.

**xXx **

It's going well. Damon's enjoying himself, he really is. It's been so long since he's gone to one of these dinners. It's why he felt that he should host.

"I was wondering where you'd disappeared to," Klaus says. Damon understands why Klaus is confused. Damon and Klaus have known each other since the beginning of the century, and since then barely a month has gone by without them meeting up. Many guy friends go gambling or drinking; Klaus and Damon are no different. They _gamble_ on the best women to take; they _drink _their blood. It's always more fun, hunting in packs.

"I've been busy," answers Damon vaguely. "Which bottle?" He points to the wine bottles, and though they were once filled with wine, now they're drained and replaced with blood. Most blood is from women (male vampires preferred to drink from women and vice versa) though there are a few men too. The labels have been replaced too, with things such as _Gay Men 21_, _Late Teenage Chicago Girls_, _Soccer Moms_ etc.

"Do you even need to ask?" Klaus says. With a shared laugh Damon pulls out _Chicago Girls_ and pours them both a measured glass. They toast and drink.

"So," Klaus begins, glancing across the room. "Who's the new girl?" Damon follows his gaze to Elena, who is now in the room. She's standing in line with the other girls, hands together and eyes downcast like a virgin, though Damon longs to tell Klaus that she is anything but.

"Someone I found," he says. "No one would miss her, so I took her."

He doesn't tell Klaus that he watched her by her window while she slept, for at least a few days; that he could barely contain himself when he first saw her in the street. _Klaus wouldn't understand._ The second he thinks that he is puzzled. Why would he think that – why wouldn't Klaus understand? He's only keeping the girl for sex. Okay, so perhaps Klaus would wonder why Damon doesn't drink her blood anymore, but it's not like Klaus hasn't enjoyed sex with one or two of his women. Still, there is something that makes Damon reluctant to tell Klaus the whole story, and so he keeps his mouth shut.

Dinner begins. The women stand behind their owners, and he feels Elena's eyes on him. He forces himself to think of something completely asexual, though it is difficult. Very difficult.

He's careful not to look at the other women. All the vampires here are friends, but taking an interest in another vampire's woman (or would blood-bag be a better term?) is liable to cause squabbles. He thinks about what he would do if another vampire took a more-than-polite interest with Elena, and he tightens his grip on the table.

It's enjoyable, more or less. Damon calms a little and begins to laugh. Without glancing away he clicks his fingers, and Elena steps forward. She pours him a glass of blood. His eyes wander over to her (he can't help himself, he's like a child in a chocolate shop) and sharply freezes. There is a dark bruise, large and ugly, on her wrist. He doesn't know why but it hits him hard. Before she pulls away he takes it, forgetting himself and everyone else.

He glances up at her, a question in his eyes: _who did this to you?_ He has to restrain himself from reeling backwards when he sees the fire in her own eyes. He has to let go and she slips back behind him as if nothing has happened.

He gets his answer.

**xXx **

Once the dinner is over Damon allows Elena to go into the kitchens. She is relieved; only Sarah and Beth are in the kitchen, working hard. Elena gets sick of their empty smiles pretty quickly, but at least it's better than having the constant feeling of being watched.

At least the girls are kind enough to give Elena some food. She stands in the corner, out of the way, quietly but quickly placing food in her mouth. She's been given the leftovers: a whole leg of chicken, some fruit (the grapes burst in her mouth, soft and sweet) and even a little square of chocolate cake. She's hungry; she had no dinner and little lunch in preparation for this party. She doesn't know if Damon wants her to do anything else tonight, but she has to think that the party is winding down.

She's thirsty, and she looks round for a glass of water. Sarah placed one on the side –

"Here." A voice right behind her; she whirls round, quickly thinking of knives. It's him, the vampire that she saw with Damon. He's smiling, a twinkle in his eyes – but it's one that she doesn't like, immediately putting her on edge. "You looking for this?" He holds it out for her, like your best friend holding out drugs.

Cautiously she takes it. She doesn't speak; it's best not to. What does she say to a vampire, one that isn't her captor? What does she even say to her captor?

"I didn't catch your name?" he says. His eyes are still on her.

She's been told to speak when spoken to, and so she feels that she has to answer. "Elena," she answers quietly. She sips the water, wondering how she can escape. She now wishes she wasn't shoved in the corner.

"What a lovely name. I'm Klaus." His accent is thick; Australian, pretending to be British? Ever so slowly she moves further away from him, even though it puts her further in the corner. "So Elena, how long have you been with Damon?"

She lifts a shoulder.

"A month or two? Three?" Klaus tilts his head, observing her. "Or do you not know? Damon does like to keep his blood-bags out of loop, though I'm surprised you haven't been compelled." He gestures to Sarah and Beth, who are working behind them, blissfully unaware of the danger. "I don't suppose you could explain that?"

She shakes her head, eyes on the floor. She doesn't like him looking at her, his eyes glimmering. Everything she does seems predictable to him, yet he asks anyway. What does he want from her? He's worse than Damon; despite everything Damon never acts like this. Or maybe it's just because he's become predictable now – she knows him too well. She must have been here for a few months at the very least, plenty of time to get used to him.

"Bizarre," he murmurs. Slowly his hand reaches out and touches her hair, coiling it round his finger. It makes her heart race, while at the same time she can't help but think about how Damon loves her hair. For this dinner he drew her a bath and placed her in it before sliding underneath her. Elena had tensed, thinking this was once again about sex. But she didn't feel his dick grow hard underneath her. He was amazingly, unbelievably, incredibly gentle. He covered her eyes with his hand and used a jug to pour water over her hair; he then washed it with shampoo and conditioner. Once out he dried her off and combed her hair through, taking about half an hour to do so; and then he blow dried it. He didn't talk to her, but hummed the entire time and even put on the radio. It was...not unpleasant.

"But beautiful." She's brought back to here and now and he moves a hand across her head.

"Excuse me," Elena bursts out. Her voice goes to the normal level, and she's surprised at the strength of it. "I have to go."

His eyes fall behind her, to the half-eaten chicken and grapes. "You haven't finished eating." Another grin, another tilt of the head. "I'm sure my friend Damon wouldn't begrudge you a few extra minutes of talking to me."

"Oh I don't know." Damon's voice cut through, like a knife. "Elena has a lot of work to do."

**xXx **

He hadn't been too worried when he couldn't spot Klaus; after all, Klaus has more friends and he likes to wander outside when he gets drunk. It's loud in the room, but he hears her raised voice: _"Excuse me"_ and then Klaus' voice straight after it.

Instantly he is in the kitchen. He finds them in not exactly a compromising position, but worrying nonetheless; Elena is backed into the corner against the counter and Klaus' eyes are bright with the excitement of the hunt. Elena's eyes are on him. There is fear in them, but this time it's not because of _him_. It's a refreshing change.

"Damon!" Klaus cries with a grin. He watches as Klaus discreetly changes position, making it seem that Elena has more room than she actually does. "We were just wondering what you were doing."

It's hard – harder than usual – but Damon manages to keep a smile on his face, confident and cocky. "Entertaining the guests. And drinking. We're starting a game of cards; I would have thought you'd want to join in."

He sees Klaus shoot a glance to Elena; the latter's eyes are on the floor. He flashes Damon a charming smile. "Of course I will." On his heel he turns and reaches for Elena's hand. Damon feels his muscles tighten as he fights to hide the flinch from his face. Klaus has taken that move from him. "It was a pleasure to meet you Elena."

She says nothing, but puts on no fight as he presses his lips against her hand. Klaus' eyes keep on her for an extra moment – so long that Damon finds he wants to rip his throat out – before leaving the room.

The kitchen suddenly seems too small, too suffocating. Damon is further away from Elena but she's still pinned against the counter. Briefly she imagines him shoving her against it, lifting her up and putting himself inside her. But it's all in her head. He moves towards her, his face impenetrable.

"Go to the basement," he informs her. "Get some of the bottles against the back wall." But while he's saying this he's typing something on his cell phone. He passes it to her. Elena hasn't held a phone in her hand for God knows how long, and all the possibilities are filtered through her mind.

He's written a message on the phone: _Go up to your room. Stay there. Say yes sir if you understand. _

Elena raises her eyes to his face. "Yes sir," she says, her voice clear and loud. He gives her a nod, unsmiling, and leaves. Elena doesn't look back at the food but hurries up the back stairs. Being allowed freedom in the house has allowed her advantages. She's not sure whether it's the house or whether Damon has made it this way, but there are hidden passages. The back stairs for example, seem to lead to a dead end. But fumble around in the dark and you'll find a little hole. Press down on it and it slides open, and suddenly Elena is in the library.

She hurries into her bedroom without even picking out a book. She slams the door shut, wishing that she could lock it. A second later she is in the bathroom. For once she's in a hurry to take her clothes off. She turns on the shower and after a moment leaps in. The water is near boiling but Elena doesn't care. She wants the scent of vampires and blood _off _her (she felt queasy as she poured the bottle of blood in Damon's glass. She wondered if this human was dead).

But she scrubs her left hand harder, especially wanting the feeling of Klaus' lips off her.

**xXx **

She turns the light off and waits for him. She doesn't know how long he'll be, but twelve eventually turns into two and he's still not here. Elena's tired after working tonight and she falls asleep by three in the morning.

At some point Elena wakes up. She's unsure of the time, but it's still pitch black. She can't see much, of course she can't. Only a figure by the window. His arm is across his chest, his other holding a glass – of blood? Scotch? She's unsure.

She doesn't speak. She would be a fool to talk right now. But she can't seem to force herself to keep her eyes closed, and so she watches him. A few more minutes, and finally he speaks.

"What did he say to you? Klaus?"

Elena doesn't pretend to be asleep. "Nothing of importance."

"Elena." His voice is more determined now. "What did he say?" He still doesn't look at her, and for the first time she finds herself feeling uncertain and even ashamed. Is he mad at her? Does she think she's a whore, flirting with everyone she sees?

She thinks back. "He just asked me my name, how long I'd been here, things like that."

"Flirting?" He asks this through gritted teeth.

"_Bizarre but beautiful." _"Yes."

He heaves a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

She sits up, the covers falling away. "Should...?" She takes a deep breath, a thousand thoughts crossing her mind. "Did I do something wrong?"

When he turns, for the first time since she's been here he looks tired. But he smiles at her. It's surprisingly sweet – a different look for him. "No," he answers. He places the drink on the desk and moves towards the bed. "You were great tonight."

He is on the bed and moves the covers away. He moves the nightgown off her body as usual. But something is different this time; though he glances over her body, his hands are gentle now, running over her skin.

He pauses as he parts her legs. "Am I hurting you?"

She jerks her head to him. _What? _"Excuse me?"

"Am I hurting you?" he repeats. His hand moves over her wrist, where he looked earlier. Is he aware that his thumb is rubbing it over and over, as if he's trying to erase it?

What is the correct answer here? _Yes, of course you are – you're raping me. _And yet she can't say that to him. She can't tell him to stop raping her. Partly because she's afraid he'll be mad; and also because, put simply, he won't stop. He's made that very clear.

"No," she answers unwillingly.

Maybe he sees through her. But he says, "Let me know if I'm being too rough on you. Sometimes I forget how strong I am." Once again he lifts her face upwards. "Okay?"

"Okay," she answers with a sudden rush of air.

"Good." He turns, kissing on her neck and finally entering her again.

_Nothing changes_, Elena thinks. But she's wrong, very wrong, for tonight has changed a lot of things. For example, when Elena has fallen asleep Damon is lying on his side, watching her.

A part of him wonders what's going on with him. But he pushes it out of his mind and closes his eyes, falling asleep. He remains facing her throughout the night.

**xXx **

Things change. Elena can't help but notice.

First and foremost, he's being gentle with her. He still rapes her, though if she's honest she didn't and doesn't expect that to change. But he's not rough anymore; he doesn't shove himself inside her, turning her away. He begins to kiss her first (not on the lips – she won't allow that) before tenderly separating her legs and moving inside of her. But he does it gradually now, and he's constantly asking her if he's being too harsh with her.

He begins to talk to her more often too. Nothing personal (she won't let it go that far) but her opinions on books and films. For the first time since she's arrived here, she doesn't feel like a prostitute. He takes an interest in her.

It may be her imagination too but she thinks... He's looking at her differently. He doesn't look at her like a prize anymore. She can't describe it, but his eyes light up when they land on her. Finally, some life in them.

She doesn't know what to make of this. But she's not about to complain. After all, it's better than it was before.

**xXx **

Things change. Damon can't help but notice.

She's more talkative for a start. When he asks her a question, she'll answer it, and occasionally she loses herself in arguments. She loves Jodi Picoult and Charles Dickens, historical novels and history in general, not just American. Those dark brown eyes of hers sparkle when she talks about something she's passionate about. It would be laughable if it wasn't so...beautiful?

He's cautious about describing – even thinking – those things when around her.

Things change sexually too. He doesn't know whether he's imagining it or not, but she seems more willing with him. She doesn't tense so much now, and doesn't turn her head in the pillow anymore. Her body is enjoying this, he can tell – he knows women, he knows sex. He watches as she curls up in a ball, not in tears. He waits for a little while when she's half-asleep before turning her. She wakes instantly, her eyes wide. He smiles her reassuringly and simply turns her so she's facing him.

"It's alright," he informs her. He brushes her hair off her face. "Go to sleep."

**xXx **

He wakes her. She's been sleeping better these days, so much so that it takes a little while longer for him to get her awake. Finally he resorts to lifting her off the covers and pressing her against him. It's not sexual. He's likes the feeling of her, this little body against his, so young physically and mentally, heart and blood racing, filled with potential. And very briefly he thinks, _I could have this forever. _

But only briefly.

She turns to him, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. "What is it?" she asks. She reaches up and rubs her eyes, and he sees her as a little child being woken up early.

"I'm sorry," he apologises (for more than this) "but your breakfast is getting cold." He nods to the side where a breakfast tray lays. There is orange juice, Actimel, (not coffee, because that's not good for her and besides, why does she need it?) and a bagel along with a side of bacon with scrambled eggs and pancakes.

"What would you like?" he asks. "Half of everything? You can have it all, but it may get cold."

She stares at it, the breakfast tray. It's laid out so carefully, as if...

"Thank you," she says. She doesn't look at him, eyes still on the tray. She's eaten in bed before but this is different. Has _he _made this for her? Not just the tray, but the food?

He shrugs like it's no big deal, but there's a pleased smile on his face. He takes the tray forward and hands her the juice. "Drink up. It's good for you." As he says this he remembers that she's been looking better lately. Fuller somehow, more whole. Her eyes are different too. Would he be so bold to say that the hostility has gone from them?

"Do you want some?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. He leans against the head of the bed, watching her. "I don't need it."

She takes a bite of the bagel before asking, somewhat timidly, "Why do you need to eat...if you're a vampire?"

He smiles. "You can ask anything you want," he informs her. "I'm sure I've heard it all." He sits back up, his eyes on the tray. "Here, you eat, I'll talk."

Dutifully she picks up her fork and starts on the pancakes first. Eyes cast upwards, she waits for him.

"I don't age," he says. "But my body works as normally as yours does, as long as I have a healthy dose of blood in my system." To prove it he takes a bite of the bacon before giving it to. She literally takes it from his hand to her mouth, all the while thinking, _this isn't normal. Even for Damon, this isn't normal. _

"How much blood do you need to take in order to stay alive?"

She asks this without thinking. It doesn't occur to her until she sees him glance at her warily. It's then she's realised what she's asked. If she knew the answer, couldn't she use it against him? _He doesn't trust me_, she thinks. On the heels of that is a little bit of shame. After all, she doesn't trust him either.

"Not too much," he answers vaguely, avoiding her eyes.

Unsure what else to say, she speaks quickly, "I like these pancakes."

"Special recipe," he says just as fast. He leans back again, watching her eat. There's a certain satisfaction in watching her, though he can't say why. There's something about her, grace and charm all wrapped up in one girl.

"My turn," he says suddenly, spontaneously. He sees her surprise on her face. "How old are you?"

Elena presses her lips together. He can see a conflict going on internally before she answers. "Seventeen." She can't be eighteen, not yet; her birthday's in August, and even she knows that she can't have been in here for this long. Thinking this, she turns her head to the window. Sunlight is drifting in through the window, and it seems to be the first warm day this year.

Damon watches her. Is this wistful look real, or is she simply trying to avoid questioning? It doesn't matter. He's determined. She hasn't told him much about her life, and before now he hasn't asked. Now he wants to know more.

"When you met me..." He debates about asking this, but he goes for it anyway. She can't do much if she doesn't like it. She can refuse to answer. "When we first slept together..." He sees her stiffen. It's progress, he thinks. Before she would have flinched. Instead she continues to eat, eyes studiously on the food in front of her. "...were you a virgin?"

She stays silent. But he keeps his eyes on her, never wavering. He wants the answer. He feels his heart pounding for some stupid, insane reason. What does it matter if he happens to have been the first person to have been there, the first person to have slept with him?

"Yes," she finally answers.

**xXx **

_Yes_.

Before Damon, she'd never slept with anyone. Sure, she'd thought about it; had even come close with an ex-boyfriend and best friend Matt (what's he doing now? Is he still mourning for her? Or does he think she's still alive, searching? Or has he moved on all together?). But after her parents had died, she didn't want anything to do with Matt any longer. He reminded her too much of sunny days in the garden with her family in the background.

But sometimes she thought of it, lying in bed. She'd still felt the urge to have sex (still been _horny_, but she's never liked that word), sometimes felt the pounding between her legs, the desire to sleep with someone.

She had expected it to be painful. But she'd imagined passion: she imagined kissing a guy so hard her lips hurt; even taking charge, tearing his clothes off. She didn't know where her first time would be. She thought a bed, but every now and then her imagination ran wild with her, and she pictured cars and even the occasional limo.

Sometimes she had even pictured a hot guy. Someone that was good enough to be a model.

She didn't expect it to be like this.

**xXx **

He feels guilt bite him like a rabid dog. For her first time, she'd been raped. That must have hurt. At the same time he can't ignore the feeling of relief. No one else has had her. He's been her first, and so far no one else has touched her.

Uncertain what to do, he lifts a hand and curves it round the back of her neck. When her eyes look at him, they're hallowed out. She's gone back there, or somewhere else. Either way there is pain and he can't get to it. He feels a little anxious – why did he have to bring this up? Their conversation was going so well; why did he have to remind her that she's being held against her will?

He can't quite bring himself to say those two words, so instead he says, "It's okay." As in, _I'm not going to hurt you again – I don't _want _to hurt you again. _

"No boyfriends?" he asks, continuing down this road. Another part of him is screaming at him to stop. She doesn't like this line of questioning; she's stuffing food in her mouth now, wanting to fill it with anything but words.

"No," she answers all too hurriedly.

_Liar_ he thinks. He tries to be objective – she's only trying to protect this boyfriend (was he current, or is it an ex?). But at the same time he feels something deep inside him – anger, like a tiger. Why is she trying to protect him? Does she still have _feelings _for this guy? Instantly Damon wants him hunted, torn apart and left in a ditch to die.

"Okay," he says. His voice must give something away because she glances up. A spark of fear is lying on her face, so he forces a smile on his. "It's fine," he answers in response to her silent thoughts. When she still looks worried he places a hand on her again, this time moving it across her face. "Fine."

"Damon," she begins, then stops. He's not sure what she was going to say; hell, it seems like she doesn't know either. But it's the first time she's said his name, and it moves him in some way. He's not sure how yet.

To cover up his embarrassment he ducks his head, eyes once again on the food – or now lack of it. "Done?" he asks.

"Yeah," she answers. There is relief in her voice as she hands it back to him.

He stands. "Do you want anything else?"

She pauses and he hesitates, seeing this. "What I would really like," she says, choosing her words with care, "is to go outside."

He gives a sigh and places the tray on the table. He turns to her again, observing. She is like a little puppy, pretending not to be eager when it's written all over her face. He toys with her a little, almost hiding a smile behind his hand as he keeps his eyes on her. In truth he's mulling it over. There are risks to allowing her outside, definitely. Okay yes, he could compel her, but what if someone saw her?

Can he lose her? If someone saw her he would probably have time to escape. But would he be able to take her too? Would he have to leave her? Would he even to able to?

He moves towards her. "Come here," he says. Remembering how many times he's said this he makes his voice soothing. She takes his hand and he lifts her upwards. He pulls her closer to him, almost as if they're about to dance. Brushing her long hair behind her back and lifts her face, looking into her eyes. "You are allowed to go outside only with my permission. You can only go one thousand yards away from the house, no further. You don't talk to anyone except for me when you're outside. If you see someone you come inside as fast as you can."

She repeats this, but this time her heart is pounding with excitement. "So can I go out?"

He teases her again with a thoughtful look before answering. "An hour."

She gives a little squeal of joy and rushes to change (he's finally bought her more clothes. Is it wrong to say that he enjoyed it? He bought her quite a few skirts and dresses, a lot of red and green; only a few pairs of jeans – he doesn't like her in them – and no white). She's almost got the speed of a vampire. Before she bounds out the room – surprising him and her – she plants a quick kiss on his cheek, a thank you.

She leaves the room and him reeling. He stands there, feeling the skin on his right cheek tingling. For a few moments he simply stands there, stunned; he then moves to the window. He can see her outside. She's smiling – no, that's not the right word for her. She grinning so hard it's nearly falling off her face, she's laughing. She hasn't even put her shoes on. He watches; using his keen vampire eye-sight he sees her toes move, taking in the soft, slightly damp feeling of the grass. She spins and twirls, dancing in her joy.

He doesn't know how much time he loses watching her. Finally he leaves the bedroom, a smile on his face.

_I may have been her first, but I'm also going to be her last. _

**xXx **

Before days seemed to pass slowly, at a snail's pace. But now they seem to fly by. Being able to go outside is a gift. As long as she asks Damon's permission first, she's allowed. He sets a time limit, naturally, but at least she can feel the wind on her cheeks and the sun on her skin.

Occasionally he joins her. One time she was sitting outside reading a book and felt him next to her. He peered over her shoulder, checking out the book that she was reading. He didn't speak and neither did she as she was engrossed in the book. But when he cautiously placed his hand round her stomach she forgot what she was reading.

"Here," he said. His voice was casual, but it was definitely forced. "Lean against me." With care he pulled her closer to him so her back was against his chest.

Her heart was hammering; her mouth was dry. She couldn't concentrate. Even now, a week later, she still doesn't understand it. He's slept with her – no, he's _raped _her, and yet her body responded to her touch. Something is going on, and she's not even sure what.

Sometimes she hates herself for her feelings.

Sometimes she doesn't care.

Today is a good day. The sun is still glowing and so Elena puts on a purple patterned dress that Damon bought her (she wishes he had bought her more jeans – she used to live in them – but at least he's given her clothes so she can't complain) and grabs a book. She doesn't know where Damon is. She's discovered he has a study and every now and then she sees him inside. He's sometimes on the phone or using his laptop. She's never attempted to talk to him when he's in there and he's never told her what he's doing. She wonders if she even wants to know.

She hurries down the stairs, passing through the kitchen. She says a cheerful hello to Sarah and grabs an apple before going to the door.

The second she opens it she leaps back.

"I'm sorry," Klaus says. His face doesn't appear regretful; if anything its gleeful. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Elena is speechless. She doesn't know what to say to him, what Damon would want her to say. She backs away, scrambling for words. "I'll get Damon for you-"

"That's okay," he replies. He doesn't enter the house but moves to the side, holding out his hand. "Would you care to accompany me for a walk? We'll see if we can find him."

There's something about the way he's talking to her. His honeyed words are meant to convince her, but it only succeeds in raising the hairs on her arm. She doesn't move forward but backwards. "It's okay-"

His hand is placed on her arm. It burns through her like fire and makes her heart leap, but not in the good way. "Please," he says. "I would enjoy your company."

He's not compelling her – maybe he likes the challenge. His girl wasn't compelled, she could tell. And if she was anything to go by then Elena doesn't want to be anywhere near him.

"Klaus!" Damon appears suddenly, right on time. He is right beside Elena but Klaus still doesn't take his hand off her arm. "What brings you around?" He's grinning but Elena thinks she sees tension around the eyes. He doesn't like this situation anymore than she does, she can tell.

"I was just in the neighbourhood," Klaus says. He doesn't look at her, but his hand is still on her arm like a burn. "Thought I'd see how you were doing. It's been a while since we've have a _proper _talk."

He makes a gesture with his arm. "I'm here. Let's go." He turns to Elena. "Leave us."

He's harsh and a part of her is hurt, but after a moment she understands. He doesn't want to show Klaus he cares about her.

_Does he care about me? Or does he only want sex? _It's not as if he's stopped sleeping with her. He may be gentle, but he still comes into her room every night and enters her. It's still against her will.

"I don't mind if Elena joins us," answers Klaus. His eyes flicker back to her. "A woman's input is very refreshing every now and then, don't you agree?" He turns on Elena. "You wouldn't mind taking a walk, would you sweetheart?"

What can Elena say? How can she disagree with Damon – as much as she despises it, in this reality technically Damon owns her. Surely he must realise he's putting her in an awkward position? She can't answer it correctly.

She doesn't have to though. Damon bristles beside her. "I need her to look at something for me. It's on your desk, Elena." His tone has lost any of its warmth towards both her and Klaus. She's heard that tone in him before, and it's enough to make her tense.

"Of course," she replies. She glances down at her arm and so does Damon. Elena can feel Klaus' reluctance but he lets go with a smile.

"Next time," he promises – no, he threatens. Elena knows Damon hears it too, that's it's not just her imagination.

She turns to leave. She can feel two pair of eyes on her as she goes.

Once she returns to her room she feels her frustration grow. She's beginning to _really _hate Klaus: she was about to have a lovely day outside before he turned up. Damon's made it clear that she's to stay in her room until he's gone.

She's trying to fight the sick feeling in her stomach. This is the second time Klaus has attempted to talk to her on her own. She doesn't like it, and she can tell Damon doesn't either. He's picking up on it too.

**xXx **

Damon doesn't like this.

He and Klaus talk, but it's fake and they both know it. He's half-inclined to tell Klaus to back off, but it's his predatory impulse that wants him to do it. Besides, he knows Klaus all too well; the second he tells Klaus not to do something, he'll go and do it anyway to spite him. It'll make Elena all the more attractive to him.

Once Klaus has gone Damon stands by the window. Klaus likes to drive his flashy cars, but he hasn't this time. It means he wanted a surprise attack. He didn't want Damon to know he was coming.

It's simple: Klaus wants Elena. He either wants to drain her or torture her. Either way he doesn't like it. Klaus will not touch Elena. Damon's seen how Klaus treats his blood-slaves. He won't put Elena through that. Besides, it's the unspoken rule: finders' keepers.

He quietly creeps into the room, waiting by the door. Elena is on the bed, flicking through a book. The way she moves, so casually and gracefully, he can't take her eyes off her. In all his life he's never seen anyone move like her. He feels the urge hit him, growing inside him.

She glances up at him. "Where's Klaus?"

"Gone," he answers.

"What did he want?"

"Just to make a fuss," he says. "Later." He bends down and pulls her on top of him. She's wearing a dress today, thank God, and he lifts it up and pulls her underwear down. With one hand he undoes his belt, the other on her arm. He keeps his eyes on her before moving to the side of her head. "Is this okay?" he asks before sticking his tongue in her ear.

Elena nods. It's not okay, not really, and she doesn't like not being able to say no.

But it's not as awful as it used to be. She will grudgingly admit that.

**xXx **

_I am shoved into a hidden passage behind the wardrobe. It closes in on me before I can turn around – so tight I can barely move. I don't know where Jer is, but I want him and Mom and Dad in here too. Something's happening – Mom said vampires, but that's just a story, my parents' little embarrassing obsession. It can't be real._

_I am quiet; I know someone is in the house, someone who shouldn't be. _

_A second later there are screams. "Mom? Dad? _Mom!_" I bang against the wall hard, I cry out, but nothing changes. But the screams, the begging, it grows louder. No matter how loud I shout, no one hears me. _

_And then the screams stop. That's worse._

"_Elena!" _His voice shatters through like a bullet through glass. With that she jerks upwards. She's dosed in sweat and her heart is racing. She thought she was back in her house, but she's not. She's in the mansion, in the bed, and she's with Damon.

Hurriedly she pushes him away from her before leaping out of bed and into the bathroom. She isn't able to close the door in time; Damon puts his foot against the door to stop her. She doesn't and can't fight him. Before she can even think, she's crying.

She's shoved herself against the wall, hugging her knees. Damon is in front of her in an instant. "Elena," he says. His voice is soothing, like warm milk. "It's okay honey-" (she doesn't know where the _honey _comes from, but she can only momentarily focus on it) "-it was just a dream."

She shakes her head vehemently. It's not a dream, that's the thing. _If only..._

"C'mon," he says. His hand is rubbing her knee, intending to be reassuring. "Come back to bed."

"I _don't _want to have sex right now Damon!" It's the first time she's snapped at him in a long time. She barely notices it; her mind is still back _there_, and she's stuck. Eyes closed, she can still see the drops of blood when she finally broke out of the wardrobe. How she walked down the stairs, her heart hammering and how her breath caught –

When Damon answers, his tone is clipped. "I wasn't going to suggest that. But there's no point sitting in the bathroom."

She shakes her head. Tears are falling down her face, and he feels a stab of pain. With a sigh he reaches over her face and wipes the tears away from her eyes. "Take deep breaths," he advises quietly.

When she finally looks up at him, her eyes are filled with tears. It reminds him of a crystal for some reason, though her eyes are dark brown and not at all like a jewel. He pities her; he doesn't know why she's crying, but he hates it. Instantly he wants to protect her, wrap his arms round her like a shield. He won't allow her to be hurt. He will die – no, he will kill before that happens.

Even though she doesn't want to be moved, he picks her up. She gives a little struggle, attempting to fight him off. But he's a vampire and she doesn't have a prayer. He carries her back into the bedroom and places her on the bed. "Wait here," he informs her – not a command, but if she tries to move he will all but tie her down.

He's back in a second (he doesn't dare leave her alone for too long, not when she's in this state) with a glass of water. He doesn't give it to her right away, but instead takes a handkerchief and puts it her nose. "Blow," he instructs. He nearly laughs; usually he wouldn't say that in this circumstance, not at all.

She sniffles but does as he says. Once done he wipes the tears off her face and then hands her the glass of water. Obediently she takes a drink and puts it down.

"Now," he says with deliberation. She's still sniffing but looks calmer. He lifts his legs on the bed and has one leg on either side of her. It's not sexual, not intentionally, but at the same time he encompasses her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she says. Her voice is rasping.

Damon pauses for a moment. "Please tell me."

Once again she shakes her head.

He sighs irritably. "It wasn't a question," he says. "I want to know what made you so upset. Now," he says, placing his hand on her shoulder, "I don't want to force you, but I will compel you if you won't tell me."

Her head jerks upwards. "Why do you care?" she bursts out.

_Why do you care? _That's a very good question. He's never cared before.

"You're extremely upset," he says slowly. "I want to know what's got you this distraught. So please, take a deep breath and tell me what made you so upset. If I have to ask again, I won't be as nice."

It takes her a couple tries, but eventually she gets the words out. "My family," she says before her throat closes up.

Damon keeps his face carefully blank. "I didn't want to ask. But I did...hear things about your family."

"They were murdered," Elena says. She meets Damon's gaze. "By vampires."

He doesn't say anything, but his mind is whirling. _This is why she doesn't like vampires. _No one liked vampires, except for vampires and good friends of vampires. But Elena has a particular hatred for them, he can see it sometimes. It's...disappointing.

"I was sixteen," she continues. "It was during the summer. I was woken up in the middle of the night by my mom. It was dark but she placed a hand over my mouth. She took me into her bedroom and showed me a hidden compartment behind her wardrobe. She shoved me inside and locked me in there. I – I don't know where my dad and brother were. Later though, I heard screaming." A shadow falls across her face and she covers her eyes with a trembling hand.

Damon waits for her to begin again. For once he won't pressure her. Instead he reaches forward and pulls her closer to him. He doesn't take her in his arms, but instead rubs her back. He hopes that it comforts her.

"It was two hours before I was able to break out," she finally says. "The house was silent. At first I didn't know what was going on, but then... I saw blood." She closes her eyes again. "At first there were only drops, but when I got down to the living room there w-were their b-bodies, torn and drained-" She can't continue; she bursts into tears again, and this time Damon pulls her towards him. He holds her as she cries, and she doesn't fight him. It's a good sign.

She cries for an hour or two. He still holds her until she eventually calms. "I'm sorry," he informs her. He means it this time, he really does. "I am so sorry Elena."

"I still see them Damon," she whispers. "In my dreams, I see their bodies-"

"I can get rid of it for you," he says. "I can compel you to forget."

Already she is shaking her head. "I don't want to forget. I need to remember Damon. You may not understand that, but I do."

He does understand, but all the same... Sometimes he wishes he could be allowed to forget.

**xXx **

There is some relief in letting someone know about her dreams, about her family's murder. When she wakes up she finds herself in Damon's arms, his chin on her head. When he wakes up he holds her tightly.

"How are you this morning?" he asks. His tone is forcibly light.

"I'm fine," she says. She feels her cheeks reddening. She attempts to move away from him but he keeps tight hold of her.

"You sure?" he asks.

"I'm _fine_ Damon." She can't believe she's let Damon in on her weakness – and a _vampire _at that. What the hell was she thinking?

"Hey," he complains as she tries to get out of his grasp again. He turns her so she's facing him. "Listen Elena, you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed," she lies.

He rolls his eyes. "Alright, you're not embarrassed. But if you _were_, you have no reason to be. I know it's painful for you to talk about that but I'm glad you did." He runs his hand down her hair. "I understand you a little better now."

At first she's not sure that she likes that. But over the next few days nothing changes, not really. He's a little more caring she thinks, a little more cautious (though not allowing her to see a film because it has some gory scenes in it really is over the top) but other than that he's the same as ever.

The sex still continues. It's the first thing that he does when he comes in. But at least it's not like the beginning. He's taking her nightgown off all the time now and leaving her naked, but he's softer now and makes sure he's not hurting her.

When they're done he moves to the other side of the bed and Elena stays on her side. She begins to curl up on her side and thinks about drifting to sleep when she hears his voice. "Hey," he says, sounding indignant. She turns to look at him. He holds out his right arm. "Come here."

For a fleeting second she thinks that he wants sex again – that's fast, even for a vampire. But instead he places an arm round her and pulls her towards him. He makes it so her head is on his chest, so she's practically on top of him. It's a little surprising. Apart from when she woke up during the nightmare he doesn't hold her, at least not like this. It's intimate, comforting. A hand is on her back and he moves it up and down, along her side. A warm feeling covers her body. She likes it, and it hurts to admit it. But she does.

"Comfortable?" he asks. She doesn't need to look at him to see the smug smile on his face.

"It's alright," she says, unwilling to admit how content she really is.

He lets out a chuckle from the back of his throat. "I'm sure you'll manage." He plants a kiss on the top her head. They don't speak, but for the longest time he continues to run his hand down her body. She finds herself fighting to stay awake for a little longer, so she can enjoy this feeling.

_God, how things change. _


	3. Part III

**HERE IT IS! THE LAST CHAPTER! **

**I have utterly enjoyed writing this story. It has completely consumed me. I might even say this story is my masterpiece. **

**I would like to thank all the people who have taken an interest in this story, particularly those who have reviewed. This story means a lot to me, mainly because I have never written a story like this before; I didn't know if people would think the scenes of rape and violence were too much, or if it didn't seem realistic. So thank you all for inspiring confidence in me. **

**I hope that you all like the ending of **_**Serendipity. **_**I quite like it, but I do find myself having doubts, so please let me know what you think. **

**Well that's it. ENJOY!**

**This is an AU story.**

**WARNING:**** This story is not like my usual stories. It is ****DARK**** and there are multiple ****RAPE**** scenes in this story. There is also multiple swearing and large amounts of sexual language and actions too. If you feel you cannot cope with rape/sex in stories than I would advise you not to read this story. ****You have been warned.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of the characters**

**xXx **

**Serendipity **

**Part III**

He makes sure that she's with him all the time from then on. He finds himself wanting to hold her often, and as time goes on he does so more and more. He dislikes being away from her; it makes him uneasy. Neither of them talks about this change, but she doesn't complain about it. And as long as she doesn't complain, then he won't stop.

He wakes up with her as usual; he now has breakfast with her; if she wishes to go in the shower he will ask for a bath instead and join her, even washing her hair for her (it's not really a chore, he adores her hair – and he thinks she knows it); he'll have lunch with her; if she wants to go outside he'll go with her; if she wants to watch a film or read a book he will join her; they will have dinner together; and he'll leave her briefly to change before bed. She barely notices when he comes in her room now.

It's the middle of the afternoon. They're in the television room, sitting on the same sofa. A film is playing but neither of them are taking an interest in it, not really. As usual Elena has her head in a book and Damon is reading over a document. She is horizontal while he is sitting normally, but he's made it so that she's leaning against him and his arm is wrapped round her stomach.

Beth brings them little sandwiches as a snack. Damon doesn't notice that Elena isn't eating them until a few minutes later. He glances towards her and at the plate of untouched sandwiches. "Don't you want to eat?" he asks.

Elena glances, somewhat irritably, towards the plate. "I'm fine," she answers. She turns her head back to the book and is instantly lost again.

His eyes flicker over her body, the back of her head. He tries to think how much she ate at breakfast and lunch. Half the plate? More than half? And when was the last time he fed her blood? His heart, dead for years, gives a little leap of fear. Surely she's not... She _won't_.

He doesn't take the risk. He rips into his wrist and pushes towards her face. She jolts her face away from him, surprised. When she turns to him, her eyes are filled with bemusement and a little hurt. "Seriously?" she asks quietly.

If she thinks that this will make him back off, she's sorely mistaken. He's not willing to take the risk. He's been so careful about making sure she doesn't leave, making sure there are no loopholes in the compulsion, to have her die just over a little forgetfulness. He pushes his wrist closer to her face. "I insist," he says, quietly but firmly.

She hesitates. He keeps his eyes pressed on her before she finally – reluctantly – takes his wrist and puts to her mouth. He feels her drink the blood from his body. She wants to pull away too quickly, but he keeps it to her mouth a little longer, to make sure that she drinks enough. She gives a little gasp when he takes his wrist away.

He watches her wipe the blood off her lips. She does this hurriedly and almost in embarrassment. She doesn't speak but turns back to her book. She doesn't look at him, seems a little more rigid. "Hey," he murmurs, and when she still doesn't look at him he uses the arm he has round her stomach to jerk her to get her attention. She turns her head stiffly, barely looking at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? But I need to make sure-"

"That I'm not going to kill myself?" she snaps back hotly.

Damon doesn't lift his gaze. "You were going to before."

"I'm not. I-"

"Okay," he interrupts. Without moving the arm round her waist he holds up his hands in a symbol of surrender. "Okay. I'm sorry. Let's drop it, okay?"

Annoyed Elena turns her head back to the book. Damon keeps his eyes on her for a few moments extra before eventually looking back over the document. He'll admit he can't concentrate on it. He doesn't want her to be mad at him; but he won't allow her to make the rules.

"It's dangerous, you know." Elena's voice is dripped with annoyance. "Giving me blood."

He allows a little laughter to escape him before hastily clearing her throat. "How is it dangerous?" In his mind it's a safety precaution.

"If I die then I'll become a vampire," she needlessly points out.

"Yeah?"

She turns to face him again. "I don't _want _to become a vampire. Besides, you wouldn't be able to compel me so I'd be able to go wherever I wanted."

"I'd still be stronger," he answers. This time his eyes are down on the document. "Besides, I think by the time you'll have turned you'll have become accustomed to the idea."

He feels Elena tense for a moment. She turns half her body, though he refuses to have his arm shaken off her. "What do you mean?"

He can sense something, a warning. He forces himself to tread lightly when he answers; he looks at her, straight in the eye. "What do _you _mean?"

"You're talking... As if it's obvious – as if I'm definitely going to become one of _you_."

The way she's says it – "one of _you_" – irks him. She talks as if it's the last thing in the world she wants; the worst thing in the world. He doesn't reply but moves his head away from her.

In retrospect it's the stupidest thing he could have done. It's doesn't stop her, only eggs her on. "Damon," she snaps.

"What?" he replies, trying and failing to keep his temper.

"I will _not _become a vampire."

He returns his eyes on the floor. "I wasn't thinking any time soon," he mutters like a caught-out school child.

She pushes herself off the sofa and he is forced to let go of her. The book falls to the floor, forgotten. Her hair flies out behind her and her eyes are dark. He admires her for a moment like a beautiful painting before she explodes. "I can't believe you!" she cries, her voice rising. "I can't believe that you've been thinking – been _planning _this-"

"Elena, calm down," he instructs, but she doesn't listen.

"Have you decided yet?" she asks. Her throat sounds as if it's closing, and on closer inspection her eyes look a little watery. "How you'll kill me?"

"Knock it off Elena-"

"You can't tell me what to do – not when you've been secretly feeding me blood and planning how you'll kill me. How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been planning this?"

"I haven't been planning-"

"Then how long have you been thinking about it?"

He doesn't answer. In truth he's been thinking about turning her more and more often. Giving blood to her – at first – was just a simple safety measure, making sure she wasn't going to kill herself. But as time's gone by, as he's grown more and more attached, the idea of making her into a vampire has become a reality. After all, Elena was going to age. She may only be seventeen, but time has a way of speeding up on you. And besides, leaving her as a human _is _dangerous: she's so weak, so vulnerable. Someone could easily hurt her. She'd be safe as a vampire, her body frozen in time just like his.

He needs to make her safe. So what if the added bonus is to keep her with him forever?

"A while," he admits.

She snorts in disbelief.

"Elena, sit down."

"Go to hell," she says, starting out the door of the room.

He appears in front of her. She doesn't even wince, just backs away from him. Her eyes are filled with burning anger that would challenge his own.

Breathing slowly he tries to keep his temper as he talks. "We'll wait a few years," he says as if she was in on the plan from the very beginning. "You're still a little young. I don't want people giving us judgemental looks when we're together. We'll wait, maybe when you're twenty one or twenty two, and then we'll turn you." He steps forward, closer to her. "It'll be quick," he says gently. "A break to the neck. You won't feel a thing."

"A few years..." She looks at him with a flash in her eyes. "How long are you going to keep me here for?"

He glances at her, for the first time caught off guard. _I thought it was obvious_. "I'm keeping you here forever." Or rather, for as long as he wants – but that's the same thing. He's going to live forever, and he's going to make sure she's with him for every minute of that forever.

Her breath catches in her throat. Stepping away, she blinks rapidly. "I'm not becoming a vampire," she says. "I'm not taking your blood anymore."

Her little act of bravo puts a smile on his face, though it's without humour. "You really don't have a choice." And he's right; he forced it on her in the beginning, he'll do it again.

"Fuck you," Elena hisses. She pushes past him, and just like that the days of spending every second with her are gone.

But he's reminded of what he _does _have, what he will always have. He calls without turning, "I'll see you tonight." A hitch of her breath tells him that she heard. In the bowels of the house he hears her slam her bedroom door.

**xXx **

Through the rest of the day Elena can't think of anything else. In the shower she sits, curling her legs against her chest. She can't help but feel betrayed. Yes, Damon has kidnapped her and kept her imprisoned – yet this is the worst thing he could have done. He _knows _about how her parents were killed – he seriously can't think that she'd be happy, as if he was giving her a gift. She knows that she wouldn't be able to resist killing someone – the urge to feed would be too strong. How would she be able to live with herself, knowing that she caused the same pain to someone that she's felt?

"_I'm keeping you here forever." _She can't ignore that either. Okay, so she knows that he was unwilling to let her go. But she had never considered that this house would be the only place she would ever see. He had already agreed to let her outside for a little while. A few months, a year tops... She was confident he would eventually release her, or at the very least get bored with her. But after he's said _this_, she has no hope that he'll allow her to leave. Or rather, he'll allow her to leave when he's turned her.

She won't become a vampire. She doesn't know how she can avoid it though. If Damon wasn't serious about giving her his blood before, he will be now. So how can she stop taking his blood? How can she escape when he's compelling her to stay inside?

Somehow she's back to square one. Only it's worse, because the consequence isn't death – it's becoming a monster.

All too quickly night comes. It's pitch black when the shadows move and Damon is in front of her. She is sitting stiffly on the bed. She likes to think that she's not waiting for him, but that's untrue.

His face is sombre, filled with suppressed anger. With his hands he begins to unbutton his top, his eyes never leaving her face. "Take your clothes off." For the first time in a while neither of them has changed into their night clothes. Elena is still wearing a green top and jeans. She wasn't before, but she changed into jeans because she knows how much Damon dislikes them.

His clothes are off but she hasn't moved. His hands still for a moment, but when she still doesn't make a move he goes to the bottom of her shirt. Presumably he's going to lift it off her body, but he doesn't get the chance because she bats his hands away.

He throws back his head, laughing. "What are you doing?" he asks in amusement. She doesn't answer. "Nothing's changed here. Whatever happens between us, you will give your body to me." He cups her chin in his hands, which is when Elena realises she's crying.

This isn't Damon. Or maybe it is, but this isn't _her_ Damon. This isn't the man who wakes her by playing with her hair; it's not the man who so lovingly prepares her breakfast in bed. She feels a little piece of her heart break away when she realises this.

She's lost him.

**xXx**

He fights the sight of her tears. Instead he focuses on the words from the script in his head, the words he doesn't really even want to say but _has _to say. "You're mine now, remember? Say it."

"Fuck you."

He grips her top and pulls her upwards. She's face to face with him, his nose touching hers. When he speaks his breath brushes up her face. "You are mine now. You belong to _me_. _Say it_."

It takes all her strength but she manages to look him in the eye. "No."

She sees a mixture of disappointment and anger – and she's even thinks she sees a hint of admiration on his face. He pushes her back down on the bed, so hard that all the air rushes out of her body. When she lifts her head up Damon is already straddling her. Through gritted teeth he says, "You seem to have forgotten a few things," he says. His hands, _those _hands, move under her shirt. He grips her breasts so tightly that she cries out. "I think it's time I remind you."

In one quick yank he rips the shirt off her body. Elena flinches as if she's been electrocuted. He does the same thing to her bra. He seems to take great pleasure in tearing the jeans apart seam by seam. The underwear too. They're both completely and utterly naked, his body pressed against hers.

He runs his hand down her body, torturing her with it and his eyes. "Let's begin," he murmurs. He lifts her upwards and kisses her neck. Usually he moves down but this time his mouth goes up. He pulls her closer and their faces are opposite. Nose against nose and his lips linger over hers. He's in unknown territory – she doesn't want him to kiss her on the lips. That's for romantic heroes, not evil villains.

He moves in but Elena turns her head away at the last minute. He pauses before letting out a chuckle. "_Fine_," he says, moving his head down and kisses her breasts.

She closes her eyes and wishes she could turn back time. It's funny: her first instinct isn't to go back to before she was kidnapped – it was to go back to early afternoon when she was reading and Damon had his hand round her waist and everything was confusing but easy all at once.

Now it's just hard.

**xXx **

He does everything right: he kisses her; he slips his hands right down her body, landing squarely between her legs; he feels his dick growing hard and knows his body is turned on.

But...he can't.

Something is holding him back. He's not into it for some reason – or rather, his head isn't. This is the first time Elena has failed to put him in the mood, and he doesn't know why.

A part of him wants to go with it anyway. Why not? If his body is willing, then why not just sleep with her? She won't like him forcing her to have sex with him. This sex is to punish her, and so why not do it?

Yet there is something deep within him, like a sleeping dragon finally awakening, that doesn't want to.

All this is going on while he's still kissing her. She's wet so she's ready (it seems her body isn't in the same place as her mind either) and so is he. She must wonder why he isn't entered her yet. Finally with a sudden groan he rolls off her.

He feels her confusion from the other side of the bed. "What...did you...?" She had been trying not to think about him on top of her, had tried to pretend she was somewhere else, and wonders if it worked so well she didn't feel him at all.

"No," he growls. She freezes at the tone of his voice and knows she has to be _extremely _careful. With another groan he stands and takes off into the bathroom. From the corner of her eye she can see his dick, which is still hard, and only confuses her more. She hears the shower turn on and him step inside. Quickly she slips out the bed and finds a nightgown, shoving it over her body.

Fifteen minutes later he re-enters the room. Without a word he gathers his clothes off the floor and walks out the room.

Elena sits up all night, waiting for him to come back. He doesn't.

**xXx **

She doesn't see Damon much after that. Not even at night. No longer is there breakfast specially made for her, or long mornings in the bath; she only sees him once a day. He only comes to her, callously, to feed her blood. He pulls her into his arms, tears into his wrist and pushes it in her mouth. She is made to drink for even longer now. Sometimes she thinks that she feels his hand run up her back, or even a soft breath against her ear, but once she is done feeding he stands and leaves. The first time he does this she slips off his lap and falls on the floor. He ignores her surprised cry, steps over her and walks out the room.

She finds herself looking after him.

Damon doesn't show up anymore, but Klaus does, with more frequency. He's coming so often that Damon has forbidden Elena from leaving her bedroom. Not compelled her, just forbidden her, but it still carries the same weight, especially with that look in his eyes.

She sits near the window, hand pressed against it. She can see Damon and Klaus walking through the garden, talking. Klaus has a smile on his face, but Damon doesn't; in fact he looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but with Klaus.

**xXx**

"No."

"Oh come on!" Klaus throws his hands in the air, still wearing that disgusting smile of his. "Your house is the biggest; you had the best party for over a year. You don't have to go all-out again, just a casual party."

"I don't want one at my house," Damon says. There is no humour in his voice. It doesn't sound like him, not even to himself. "Not for a while anyway." If he's honest, he would be happy not going to another one at all. They seem to have lost their fun. Besides he would have to bring Elena, and he really doesn't want to watch Klaus try to get close to her all night. It's driving him insane, the fact that Klaus keeps showing up. He knows Elena is getting sick of being stuck in her room. Since he's mad at her it serves as a suitable punishment, but he knows her (he's surprised at how well) and eventually she's going to disobey him. It's just a case of _when_. And Damon doesn't want that to be when Klaus is around.

"You've lost your sense of fun," he accuses.

He's honestly too tired to argue about this with Klaus. "You're right," he says. "But my answer's no." He gives Klaus a cold pat on the back. "I'll see you later."

He's walking away from Klaus when he hears him call behind her. "I want Elena."

Those three words puts Damon's on the defence. He stops and slowly turns round. "I'm sorry?" he asks though he heard Klaus well enough.

Klaus approaches him slowly. That charming smile is gone from his face; his eyes are now chips of cold ice. "I will trade you any girl you want for Elena."

"No." The answer is out faster than the speed of a bullet.

"I'll give you five girls. Five for one. It's a good deal."

"It is," Damon replies. "But not good enough."

When he turns away Klaus appears in front of him. His friend's face is darker than usual and Damon can see his hands are fists, as if he's going to punch him. "I suggest you take this deal Damon. If you want our friendship to remain intact."

Damon likes Klaus – or rather he _liked _Klaus. But they've outgrown each other. No, that's wrong – _Damon _has outgrown Klaus. No longer does Damon want to party all night and drain girl after girl until the sun rises and even after that. He wants...

_Elena_. That thought punches him straight in the gut. He doesn't want to lose her. He always knew that but now he has to face up to it.

Jesus Christ, who has he become?

He manages to gather his thoughts together to be able to look Klaus in the face. "Our friendship is over Klaus. Now," he says, right in Klaus' face, "get _off _my property."

He pushes past him and goes back in the house. He slams the door shut so hard that the entire house rattles. He doesn't realise he is short of breath until a few minutes later.

He doesn't know how much danger Elena is in. But he is almost certain that Klaus isn't going to back down.

**xXx **

Elena doesn't understand the change at first. Damon goes from barely looking at her to spending nearly every second with her. She has to stay in her bedroom, so he stays with her. Not on the bed – he sits by the window reading a book. She reads her own book and they remain in their separate worlds. He doesn't enter the bathroom when she goes. She finds herself taking a bath, half-hoping that he will join her. But the argument still stands so neither of them talk.

He doesn't even sleep in the same bed anymore. She finds herself taunting him (she doesn't want to analyse why she's doing it – she's too scared of the answer) by going to bed naked. If he wants sex then he restrains himself very well by keeping his same seat by the window. Whenever she wakes up she sees his shadow and is surprised that it gives her a little comfort.

This is how she knows that Klaus has stepped up his game.

She's half-asleep when she has this thought. It doesn't worry her as much as it should. Damon's protected her so far – he won't fail now. He may be a jerk and is planning to turn her into a vampire against her will, but if he's willing to go this deep than he won't be lazy in protecting her.

**xXx **

As the clock strikes two Damon slaps the book shut. "It's time," he says, coming forwards. Elena turns her head away as he sits on the bed next to her. He pulls her towards him but she struggles in his arms like a spoilt child.

He heaves a sigh. "Enough Elena. This is happening." She turns her mouth into her shoulder; he grips her chin and forces her to look at him. He catches her gaze as he says, "This is for your protection. Don't be stupid."

"Damon, please." It's the first time she's spoken to him since this argument began. "I don't want to be a vampire."

Without pause he tears into his wrist and shoves it to her mouth. He has to hold her head there this time as she does the best she can to move away. Pushing harder he watches as the blood slips unwilling into her mouth; reluctantly she swallows and once she does so he moves away.

She looks at up at him through hurt eyes. Moving his sleeve down he says, "But _I_ want you to be a vampire and I'm the one who's making the rules." He moves away and goes to his regular seat. "I think we may have to move that date forward a bit."

Her body nearly turns to stone. She stares at Damon whose eyes are fixed on his own book. "When?"

"Soon."

**xXx **

He doesn't need to look up to know that this is killing her. It was bad enough for her when she thought he was giving her immortal life for her twenty first birthday, but to think that she'll be making that transition sooner rather than later...

He doesn't want to. Not really. In fact he was hoping to wait a few years. Not only because they would look like a cute couple and not a twenty-something guy shopping in the high school department; but because he thinks that after a while she'll come around to the idea. He would treat her to good food, warm baths, jewellery, maybe even holidays. He would show her how good he is, what it would be like to spend eternity with him.

He doesn't really have time though. Klaus wants Elena. He will drain her, play with her, torture her until he drives her to kill herself – it's happened to many girls that Klaus has owned. The only way she won't be as appealing is if she's a vampire. She might still be after that, but at least she has a better chance of fighting him off.

He watches as her eyes grow glassy. "It won't be a surprise," he says softly, in an attempt to be comforting. "I'll let you know when we'll do it, how-" He sees her wince and he swallows painfully. "-how I'll do it. It won't be painful. I will make sure of that." When she doesn't say anything he returns to his book, having the growing feeling that he's just set off a bomb.

**xXx**

She's quiet throughout dinner, and though she has a book it stays on the same page. He watches her as she dresses for bed and slips under the covers. Without a word she turns the light off and they're plunged into darkness. Quietly he closes his book and watches her. It would be one thing if she was taking the huff, but it's not that. She's lost in her own world, worrying about becoming a vampire. He realises there are many things he hasn't told her: how bad the blood cravings will be once she's fed, how amazing it will feel when she uses her super-speed, how disorientating the new strength will be for her. Before he turns her he'll need to go through these things.

"Damon." Her voice is a thread. It goes straight through him though, like a sword.

He goes to the bed, resting beside her – his old side. "Yeah?"

Slowly she sits up. When she turns to him he sees tears rolling down her face. "I don't want to become a vampire," she whispers. Her chests begins to quiver and with no more encouragement needed he pulls her into his arms. She sobs against his chest, her breathing raspy and uneven.

"I know," he says. He rocks her back and forth soothingly. "I know you don't want to, and I'm so, _so _sorry. But this is the world we live in." He feels her shoulders tense as she says this but he keeps tight grip of her. "And you don't have a choice."

She's not happy with him, but he stays with her. Her breathing evens out by the time it reaches five. He holds her tighter. He wishes he was feeling sympathetic, but the truth is, he's thinking of what they'll do once she's a vampire: he'll take her to Rome, to midnight parties on the roof – and leaping off them too. He'll spend nights showing her the stars; watch her face light up as fireworks go off.

She'll be with him forever. He's not unhappy about this.

**xXx **

As the sun begins to rise Elena looks to Damon's face. He's calm, sedated in slumber. At least someone is. But she has purposely forced herself to stay awake. Damon has been strangely _caring_ about this, but she knows that he will turn her. For some equally strange reason he wants her.

She can't become a vampire. It would betray her whole belief system. Vampires killed her parents. She will not become one of them.

Silently she steps from underneath the covers. From under her bed she pulls out a stake. She broke it off an old chair and stuffed the remaining part in a closet, taking a risk when Damon made a brief sweep of the area for Klaus.

If he is staked, she will be free from compulsion. Then she will be able to leave, and she'll be free. She will grow old and she'll die. She will have a beginning and an end. She won't watch the world wither.

He is fast asleep. Awkwardly she stands over him, looking down at his body. She's never stabbed or staked anyone, she doesn't really know how she's supposed to do this. As far as she knows she can't be hesitant. She has to do it straight and fast. Yet every time she lifts her hand to strike her arm is trembling so bad that she puts it down to her side again.

His face, it's soft and sweet. She's never seen him look like this before. He looks as if he's innocent. As if he isn't a vampire that's imprisoned her for God knows how long. As if he's just a man – not even that. A boy.

Elena can't kill a boy.

She sneaks out her bedroom. She doesn't stop until she's gotten to the hallway. It's early, so early that not even Beth or Sarah are awake yet. In the foyer she takes deep breathes, still holding onto the stake. It feels dirty, so she drops it to the floor.

_There's no way out. There's truly no way out. Either I become a vampire or I kill Damon. And I can't do either. _

There's a third option. She lifts her gaze to the door. She can't escape, and even if she did she's certain that she'd be on the run for the rest of her life. Damon's wants to turn her – he'll follow her to the edge of the earth if he has to.

And yet...

She goes to the door and opens it (why would Damon need to lock it?). It's sunny and the day promises to be warm. She can feel it without needing to take a step outside, but she can't put a toe across the threshold of the door. Not without Damon's permission, and it's been a long time since he's allowed her to go outside.

She closes her eyes, clearing her mind. _Calm, think... Mind over matter. You can go outside. You can go outside. It's easy. You can go outside. You can go outside. _

She puts a hand forward. But her muscles, they freeze. It's not like an invisible wall, it's in _her_. She grits her teeth, trying to move her arm forward and then the other; but not even her little toe will cross the line. She feels tears brimming in her eyes.

"Well good morning love."

It's a reaction thing, as if she's heard the sound of a gun. She instantly tries to move back but Klaus grips her arm hard and pulls her outside. One of the things she feels is her muscles seizing up in protest. She's not meant to be out here, and her body is crying out for her to be returned.

But Klaus pins her against the outside of the wall. His hand is over her throat and she struggles to get oxygen to her lungs. "And here I thought this was going to be a problem," he whispers. His breath is in her ear like a slimy worm. "But it seems the lamb has come to the lion."

She doesn't answer – she's been compelled _not _to talk to anyone when she's outside. So all she can do is put her hands on his hands and attempt to get him off her.

"This is like something out of my dreams."

She thinks that he's going to rape her. But she's spent so much time with Damon that she's forgotten what vampires really do. He puts his nose in her hair and takes a good long breath. "I think you'll be sweet," he says. Before she knows it he's moved her hair out the way and dug his teeth into her neck.

She's forgotten how much it hurts. His teeth scrape inside her, drawing out her blood. She feels it leaves her body and her legs instantly get weaker. She thinks that Damon's promise of informing her when he'll turn her and how has been broken, even though it's not by him. It's her fault.

Thing is, Damon compelled her not to talk to anyone. He didn't say she couldn't make any noise.

She doesn't realise that's she's been screaming his name until Klaus is knocked off his feet. She can't really see what's going on, but there are blurs on the floor and she can tell he's fighting hard, fighting for her.

**xXx **

He can't think about what's happened (why did Elena leave the bedroom? Why is there a stake on the floor?). All he sees is Klaus draining Elena of blood and he really does see red. He shoves Klaus away and punches him. Klaus fights back and pretty soon they're matching each other blow for blow.

Klaus pins him to the floor; Damon pushes him off. Klaus is back on him and his hands are round the throat. Damon kicks him in the stomach.

But he's been foolish. He hasn't been drinking enough blood. He's not as strong as Klaus who drains a girl every day. He needs to end Klaus – fast. Or he'll lose and when he loses so will Elena.

He has Klaus on the floor and is attempting to pull out his heart when he's thrown off him. He hurries on his feet but Klaus is one step ahead of him. Elena attempted to seek shelter in the house, but Klaus can enter. He's now holding Elena in front of him by the throat.

In a second Damon is frozen. "Let her go."

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands." He's still on edge, but more confident now. He has Damon by the balls and they both know it.

"I'll do anything," Damon says. He doesn't look at Klaus; his eyes are on Elena. Her head is positioned at an awkward angle and her fingers and grasping Klaus' hand. "Just don't hurt her."

"I can turn her," Klaus says. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want to spend _forever _with her, right? So you won't mind if I make her a vampire? Knowing you," Klaus says with another grin, "you've probably already fed her blood. So all I'd have to do..."

He squeezes her neck. Damon watches as Elena begins to struggle against him, coughing and spluttering. Damon had hoped to wait him out, but this is torture. He's watching her _die_. He was willing to snap her neck, but that would be fast; suffocating is slow and twice as painful. He can't let her die like this. He _promised_.

"No," he says – begs. "_Please_. I'll do whatever you say."

Klaus drops his hand away from her neck. She gasps, taking in air. Damon feels his shoulders slump in relief. She looks terrified but she's alive, and right now Damon will settle for that.

"See that table?" Damon nods, eyes on the wooden rectangle. "Take a leg out."

Without thinking Damon snaps it off the table.

"Put it into your stomach."

Once again, Damon acts without thinking. It's not his chest so he won't kill him, but damn it hurts. He can't help but sink to the floor, eyes scrunched against the burning pain. He hears a thump and finds Klaus in front of him. He can't see Elena, but she's not in Klaus' arms. With any luck she'll be able to escape.

His _friend _pulls the stake out of his stomach. This hurts nearly as much and he cries out. Klaus bends over, hands on his shoulder. "It's been fun my friend," he says. "But I think it's time you depart. Don't worry," he reassures. A smirk is fixed on his face, the grin of the devil. "I'll take good care of Elena."

He's too weak to defend himself. Klaus raises a hand, ready to push the leg of the table into Damon's chest. But at the last second Klaus freezes. He turns grey and that's when Damon sees a small piece of wood sticking out from the front of his chest.

A second later Klaus falls to the floor. His eyes are open and unmoving; he's dead. Still gasping, Damon stares at him before lifting his head. Elena is standing before him, sweating and shaking. She is the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

**xXx **

Damon sleeps for the rest of the day – and for that day, Elena sits by his bedside, watching and waiting for him to wake up. This time though, she's in _his _room. Beth and Sarah helped Elena put Damon to bed, and they led her to his bedroom. She's never been in here before, and she takes a little while examining it. There is a shelf of books, most of the rare first editions and very valuable. He has _records _too. Once again Elena wonders how old he is, but he's not in any state to talk. She feels a little out of place in his room, wondering whether he wants her in here – after all, he hasn't allowed her in before.

He woke up briefly and Elena gave him some blood. Not her own (he wouldn't take it, even though his eyes were rolling from exhaustion) but from a blood bag. As soon as he was given that he fell back asleep. She wishes he would wake up, reassure her that he's alright. But the second he is given blood his eyes droop and he falls asleep. Elena hovers over him before carefully sitting on the chair beside him. He sleeps a little restlessly, tossing and turning at first. She's thinks she even heard him mutter her name. Hesitantly she said "Damon," loudly and clearly. After that he sleeps peacefully.

Elena isn't in shock. Not after the attack. It was easy, in the end. Stabbing Klaus... She didn't think twice about it. If the choice was losing Damon or becoming a killer – well, there was no choice at all.

It's past midnight by the time she hears a groan leave Damon's lips. Elena didn't fall asleep; her eyes were closed but she was definitely awake. When she hears him she lifts her head, instantly alert. He sits up, a hand over his stomach – clearly he's still in a little pain. He opens his eyes properly and they land on her. She thinks she sees relief (joy maybe?) in his eyes, but a second later a shadow passes over them. His eyes move to a glass of blood which is on the bedside table and he drinks it down.

With a satisfied gasp he closes his eyes again. "My head is pounding."

"Your head?"

"A reaction to the attack and lack of blood." He stands with another groan, stretching his body out.

Elena is half out her chair. "Do you want – need anything?"

He shakes his head, holding up his hand. She sees his eyes scrunch up. It's not in pain though (she knows him too well); he's thinking, his mind working away at some problem that she can sense will lead back to her. Finally he turns to her. "You wanted to leave."

Eyes down on her lap, she nods. She's ashamed of herself. He saved her life when she was trying to run from him. For once she's in the wrong, not him.

She can see well enough to see his eyes close. The expression on his face shows so much pain that it hurts her too. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I-"

"No," he says, eyes still closed. His voice is gentle, softer than she's ever heard it. It sounds as if he's got something caught in his throat. "_I'm _sorry." He throws his shirt, torn and a little bloody, to the bed but makes no move to take off his trousers. She doesn't even think that he wants sex – it's not in his face, not in his eyes. Maybe at the beginning the sex was all they had. But things have changed now. She doesn't know _what _they are – she's scared to even define it. But it's not sex, or even rape. It's something more.

**xXx **

How could he possibly have believed that she would love him? He's a monster, but it's not just that. No one has ever loved him.

Well, that's not true. His mother loved him. She was his first child, and she put a lot of attention into his care. She taught him from an early age, disciplined him and made sure his father was never too harsh on him. When she died it was the worst day of Damon's life, and he's fairly certain it still is. His father could never look at him the same way again.

Being a vampire... He thought it could be different. That's why, when what appeared to be a sweet country girl said she could give him a better life, he took it. And yes, becoming a vampire changed a lot of things. When he was human he liked and disliked people; now he loved and hated them. And even though he had friends, he was never loved. No, he went all over the globe: back to Italy, England; the best cities, Paris, London, Berlin; he goes through jungles and sees many sights that a thousand people would never lay eyes on. Yet nothing satisfies him. No one satisfies him. And no place feels like a home to him.

He's only just realised now – he feels at him when he's with Elena. It's so simple he nearly laughs out loud. All those years of longing and searching, _this _is all he ever needed.

He can't have it though. Of course he can't. After everything he's done, he doesn't deserve happiness.

Why on earth would he think that Elena – the sweet, naive, moral seventeen year old – would love him?

**xXx**

"I shouldn't have taken you in the first place." He keeps his distance, her on one side of the bed and him on the other, as if it's easier for him. "It was...stupid. I shouldn't have expected to have...forever with you." It seems painful for him to say the words, and this is when she realises that he has – had – been dreaming of it: of them, together forever.

He moves towards her. He doesn't tell her to come to him for a change, he moves to her. Gently he cups a hand under her chin and turns her face to his. Smiling wistfully and perhaps regretfully, he says, "I release you from any earlier compulsion. You are free from now on."

She repeats it and he backs away hurriedly, as if he's rushing away from a fire. She stands there, unsure of what to do or say or even what to feel. She's..._free_. He's given her what she's wanted for God knows how long, and yet she finds her feet pinned to the floor. Why isn't she racing to the door? Why isn't she taking her first breath of fresh air as a free citizen? Why isn't she finding old friends and buying pairs of jeans and cutting her hair short? What's the hell is wrong with her?

Damon pours himself a glass of scotch and sips it slowly. His back is facing her. "Well? Go." He's trying way too hard to sound casual. "I swear I won't stop you."

It's her cue to leave, to rush out the door and not look back. Yet she seems to have forgotten her because she still doesn't move. Instead she tries to find words. "I...erm...I..." She doesn't know what she'll say but at least he turns his head to her.

For once words aren't needed. This is how far they've come – they can read each other's minds. She can see his face close up, but his eyes don't hide his feelings quickly enough. She can see a flicker of hope, like a candle fighting the rain. After a long moment of hesitation he walks towards her. "What do you want, Elena?" It isn't a demand; it's softly spoken, as if he really wants to know. She has the feeling that he would give her the world if she asked for.

Suddenly Elena is off-footed. All her thoughts and feelings spin and mix in her head and she's more confused than ever. It brings tears to her eyes, but nonetheless she keeps them on him. "I don't know," she whispers. It's partly a lie. Right now, she knows what she wants.

His eyes flash, and she knows then that he knows what she means. "I won't do it," he says firmly. He backs away so he's sitting on the bed. "If you want me, you'll have to start it. I won't rape you any longer."

It's the first time he's said that to her. Even though it is a reminder of what he's done to her for at least a few months, it doesn't put her off. In fact it encourages her. He's admitted what he's done; he's not hiding it. And he's not going to do it again. He's letting her make her own choice.

She steps forward so there's barely any room between them. His eyes are on her face and he remains silent. Slowly she takes off her nightgown. He hates the bite on her neck, but the rest of her body is as perfect as porcelain. He won't make a move, yet he feels his dick growing. How does she do this? How does she make him lose his mind and blood desire? _How? _

She undoes his trousers and pulls them down. She doesn't even know what she's doing or why she's doing it. But the desire inside her is growing. If she's honest, it's been there for a while now. She's been starved off sex for a week now, and it's made her both confused and desirous.

She _wants _him. God she wants him. It makes no sense but she wants him. She thinks back to what he said a long time ago: _"It won't always be like this...one day you'll enjoy it."_

She would never have thought he'd be right.

**xXx **

He's on tenterhooks. His instinct is to pull her towards him, but he waits. It's hard – literally – but he waits.

She leans forward. He doesn't know what she's doing at first, but when her nose nuzzles his he realises. He doesn't move, doesn't dare, until she presses her soft lips against his. They're warm and smooth; the kiss makes goosebumps appear on his arms.

It's as if drums were being pounded constantly in the background, like an ongoing headache, and now they've been silenced. He finally moves, responding from her touch. He can _taste _her, but this time it's different: sweet like cherries. He doesn't think about blood. Right now he's not a vampire. He's just a guy who is kissing a girl. There's something subtly beautiful about that, like a single rose in a vase or sunlight shimmering through the rain.

She puts a leg on his body and pushes him down on the bed. She keeps her lips to his, and he wraps his arms round her. He doesn't want to make a move but he can't contain himself. Who ever knew _kissing _would be so sensual?

For once it's her who's running her hands down his body. He spreads his legs wide and welcoming, and with a dark look that would make Klaus proud, she puts herself in him.

It's the best sex he's ever had. He doesn't know whether it's because she's taken charge or because – finally – she's giving all of herself to him.

_All _of herself.

**xXx **

They do it another two times, and for an hour or two they talk and laugh. She leans against his body, eyes closed as he plays with her hair. Neither of them leaves the bed; the mattress is the land and the sheets are the sky, and why on earth would they leave a world as perfect as this?

"I thought this was over," he admits. Looking down at this beautiful mess of a girl, he thinks that he almost lost her. He doesn't want to get that close to losing her ever again.

She closes her eyes. "I thought – I thought I wanted it to be over. But it – I –"

She is struggling for words but he waits with held breath for her answer.

"But I don't," she says. She inwardly cringes, listening to how lame that sounded. But she's never seen him smile so wide. He reaches down to kiss her lips (neither of them can get enough of this new treasure) and deepens it. Elena can't stop the smile on her face as they kiss. She feels like laughing. _This _is what she wanted all along.

As they talk Damon's eyes are drooping. The attack has taken its toll. Gently she strokes his smooth chin. "Go to sleep," she murmurs.

"I'm good," he insists as he forces his eyes up.

She lets out a laugh.

"I don't want to sleep," he says. He smiles softly. "I don't want to wake up and find this has all been a dream."

She shakes her head. "It's not a dream," she promises. "It's just my dream."

He closes his eyes. "Not just yours." Still holding her he moves further down the bed. She adores watching him sleep – a new hobby of hers. She thinks about how she could watch him sleep forever. Damon's informed her that he won't make her a vampire – it's up to her. She knows she needs to think about it, but right now... She knows that she wants to be with Damon. Why not make it forever?

Still smiling, she gazes round the room. She wonders whether she'll move into this room, now that she and Damon are like this. It's not an awful room. A little reluctantly she detangles herself from Damon (he lets her go, but unwillingly) and examines it. She looks at his desk, exploring it. Damon has so many interesting things that have been collected over the years... She fingers a few small boxes and a small square marble statue before her eyes land on a box. It's made of dark wood and looks foreign. For some reason she's attracted to it. Curiously she opens it.

For what feels like the millionth time today she freezes.

She picks up what is in the box. It's a watch. Nothing special: a large face with a tan leather strap. No one would look twice at it, but Elena's seen this more than twice. With a trembling hand she turns to look at the back of it.

_To G, _she reads, _always and forever. Love M. _

She's read this inscription before. She always thought it was romantic. Her father would read it fondly and look over to her mother before kissing her, and Jeremy would pull a face and Elena would just laugh. He always wore this watch, even when he went to bed. It was something precious to him because her mother gave it to her, and he would never risk losing it. She hadn't been able to find it when he'd died, and it was another stab to her heart. With something as meaningful as that watch to be stolen, well that was just adding salt to the wound.

How could Damon have this unless...

**xXx **

A slam of the door wakes Damon. He jerks his head up. His eyes search for Elena but she's not here. He listens for her in the bathroom, but he can't hear her. Bemused (and admittedly a little anxious) he stands. Something feels...off. He glances round, half-worried that Klaus has risen from the dead and taken her again.

Something on his desk catches his eye. He's had this room in the same way for so long that he's acutely aware of any changed. He goes over to it. What he sees the box open and empty he feels his stomach drop.

_Shit_. Elena knows.

**xXx **

For the record it wasn't Damon's idea. Or rather, it wasn't as if he killed the Gilbert family out of boredom or sport. It was, both simply and callously, what needed to be done.

There was a meeting for the vampires in the area – another one of the dinners that Elena herself had served at. It was revealed that a few families were getting suspicious of vampires – and by that it meant that vampires were being killed by humans. One family was focussed on more than the others: the Gilberts. It was concluded that for the safety of vampires everywhere they should be taken out. It would deal with the Gilberts and send a warning to the other families who were debating on taking on vampires. The task was assigned to Damon.

The kill was easy. He was allowed in, so they must not have known he was a vampire until after he had been invited in. He had pretended that his car had broken down (really, they should have been too smart to fall for that). The mother and father disappeared before the father tried to attack him with a stake. Damon was too fast though; he caught the stake and pushed it back so it ended up in his own chest. He found the brother and mother on the landing; the mother seemed to be hurrying him somewhere, but Damon stopped them with a bite and a broken arm. He knew there were four people, but after a quick look he couldn't find the girl. He decided to deal with the others first before looking for her. It would prolong the pleasure.

He wishes he could say that it was a clean, quick death. But it wasn't. The father had killed two vampires, so he made him watch as he first drained the son, then his wife, and then finally him. He made them beg and plead for their lives, for their son's life. He laughed in their faces. When they were all dead he glanced round for something he could take from their house – he always did this. Even now he doesn't know why he does this. Maybe it's just so he can remember where he started. The watch was hanging off the man's wrist, it was small and nice-looking – Damon pulled it off and slipped it into his pocket.

He did search for the girl. In fact he found her – he could hear her breathing behind the false back of the wardrobe. He wasn't surprised that the Gilberts had something like this – most families that knew about vampires did. He didn't try to get to her though. After all, it was one girl – besides, the wardrobe was made of wood and attempting to get to her could hurt himself. If this girl knew about vampires than she might know how to kill him. He remembers thinking when he left that he was going soft in his old age.

He didn't know that he had killed her family. Not at first. But then he followed her to her house and realised who she was. But even by then, it didn't matter. He was obsessed with her scent, and since he personally knew she had no family that would miss her, the temptation was too much. Besides, he had thought he might as well get the set.

He didn't ask about her family, since he already knew. But he felt his guilt growing when she, sobbing, told him her story. For the first time he felt sorry for what he'd done. This girl had lost people that she'd loved. He would die if he lost Elena. Knowing this, feeling this way, how could he justify killing them?

After that night he hid the watch. Usually he displays his souvenirs with pride, but he couldn't risk Elena finding it. So he put in the box, thinking that she'd never come in his bedroom anyway. Clearly he didn't hide it well enough.

Now she knows what he's done. He flings the box on the wall, swearing. _Fucking stupid! Why the hell did I have to take a souvenir? _

She can't have gotten far. They've gotten through a lot – surely they can get through this? Surely they're strong enough?

**xXx **

Sobbing, she hugs herself making sure her sleeves are firmly pressed down against her sides before continuing to walk. She doesn't know where she's going but she doesn't care. She needs to get away from him, the vampire that murdered her family. Every step is heavy and filled with trepidation, but her will refuses to let her turn back.

_How could I have been so stupid? He played me. He played me and I fell for it hook line and sinker. He's probably been laughing at me all this time. I should have known. He didn't change. He's the same evil cunt he's always been. _

"Elena." She stumbles, her heart nearly blooming out her chest. Damon is in front of her, but he's at least two metres away. He's giving her space. _Well isn't he a good guy. _

"Get _away _from me!" Her voice is raw. It's strong though, and she can tell from his face that it hurts him. _Well, good. He deserves it. _She reminds herself not to go soft now. There's more that needs to be done yet, something much harder than this.

"Elena please let me talk to you." His eyes show remorse but it doesn't matter. _It doesn't matter._

"You set me free," she informs him. "I can go where I want."

She pushes past him but he moves in front of her. For once all his strength, his power and threats are gone. His face is desperate, his eyes genuinely upset. _Well too fucking bad_. He murdered her family. The rest of the things she could forgive, even the rape. But this, she can't forgive or forget this.

"Why?" Eyes wet and sore she looks at him. She sees him wince and she knows that her face hurts him. "Why did you kill them?"

"It wasn't personal Elena, I swear, it was only because your family were killing off vampires and we had to stop them-"

"So you killed them." She closes her eyes, fresh tears falling down her face. _Such a fool..._ "You _bastard_."

He can't stop himself from gripping her shoulders. Peering in her face he says, determined, "I am so sorry Elena. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could bring your family back I would – just please don't leave me. Let me explain, let me spend years making it up to you. _Please_. I love you."

He allows it to linger in the air. He watches her face, but it doesn't change.

That's his mistake.

Once again a piece of wood hangs in his stomach. He gasps and glances down. A _twig_. It's a twig, she's stuck a twig in him. He fumbles, letting go of her shoulders. That area was already sore, and so it hurts twice as much. He knows he should pull it out, but he's stunned. He looks at her, but she's already pulling out the stake that she made earlier today. The one that she was going to use to kill him earlier today but couldn't. How's that for irony?

She's crying but she's poised, ready to attack. "How could I love you?" she asks. "You're a monster." He has a clear view of her eyes, and remembers what he thought when they first met; he wondered if they were leaking out the darkness that was in her soul. _I should have trusted my instincts from the beginning._

She's going to kill him. He sees it in slow motion as she raises it. He feels his heart implode, but at the same time – in that final instant – some of the old Damon returns. If she's taking him down, she's coming with him.

Thing is, he knows this forest better than she does. Right before the stake hits his chest he grabs her arms and flings himself backwards. The stake goes in but they fly through the air. What Elena doesn't know (and didn't see through the darkness) is that there is a deep drop leading to flat ground. The two of them move through the air, rolling on the sharp ground. The last thing Damon hears is a strange groan and Elena's sharp cry of surprise and pain.

That's the last thing – after that moment he ceases to exist.

**xXx **

The sky is lighting up when Elena opens her eyes. She can't remember where she is – in fact she can't remember anything – and with a groan she moves. All the bones in her body are sore, even the ones in her face. Through the pain she sits up, looking round to remind herself of what's happened. She feels a sharp point in her heart when she sees Damon's body not too far away from her. His face is turned away from her but the stake is visible.

Pain hits against her. It's worse than what she thought it would be. Is it wrong to say it's worse than when her family died? She knew that she would have to do this, and yet... _Oh good Lord, it hurts. Why? Why does it hurt so badly? He killed my family. He raped me. He killed my _family. _So why does this hurt me so much?_

Feeling as if she'll vomit (but the thing that will come out is her heart), she turns away. But there is more: her eyes land on another body. It's a man, and when she spots a tent not too far away she realises it's a camper. He was here when they fell. They must have knocked him to the ground. The combined weight of both of them...it would have done damage.

He's not moving. Elena covers her mouth with her hand. Oh God. She's killed him. She's the one who attacked Damon and made him fling them over. Now she's killed someone.

_Else, _a tiny despaired voice in her head finishes for her. But isn't this worse? This man was innocent. He probably has a family, maybe some kids, a company or something. He probably pays his bills on time and gives money to charity. He's done nothing to anyone, but he's dead anyway. Just like her family.

A new streak – or maybe forgotten streak – of determination overcomes her. She rushes over to him – surely he isn't dead yet, there may be still time. She'll save him. This is her mistake, but she'll fix this one.

She goes to his neck checking for a pulse while scanning his body for any injuries. As she does this she sees blood leaking out from his other side, somewhere from his stomach.

All of a sudden she can't think of anything else; can't see or hear anything else. All she can see is the blood, can hear it singing in her ears, a soft melody that is the sweetest sound she's ever heard. As if she's watching the scene on a television screen, Elena puts a finger in the blood and slowly places it in her mouth. The _taste_... It's salty and sweet all at the same time; it's the best thing in the world, why do more people not drink this? How can people stop themselves from drinking it? How can they fight it?

She doesn't think. She simply bites him and drains him of his blood. She doesn't stop. The thought doesn't even enter her head. It shows how far deep she's gone.

If he wasn't dead before, he is now.

When she surfaces she already knows what's happening – what has happened. She didn't survive the fall – she was killed in it. But Damon's vampire blood is still in her system. She's drunk blood and completed the transition.

She's what Damon always wanted; she's what she never considered becoming until last night. She's a vampire.

God, wherever he is, is laughing at her. Elena has become what she hates the most, and she will be one forever.

Only she's made it worse for herself. Because she'll be a vampire forever without Damon.

She's killed the one person she loved. And she will have to live with that –

_Forever. _

**xXx **

**Ta-daa! Done! **

**I hope you all liked the ending. I couldn't make it a happy, holding-hands-gazing-into-the-sunset ending, even though my inner-romantic was begging me to. This ending feels right to me, and I hope you all agree. **

**Once again I would like to THANK all the people who have looked into this story with great interest. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed every minute of it.**

**So...one last review? ;-) **


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